A Tale of Mirkwood
by Lizbit
Summary: COMPLETE - The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor. *NON-10TH-MEMBER*NON-SLASH*NON-AU*NON-GIRL-FALLS-INTO-ME*
1. Chapter I The Orc Camp

Author's Note: I have recently began the final edit for this story. I will be posting them back up with all errors fixed. A few chapters have greatly changed, so by all means, reread! I think it flows much better now. Thank you!

**CHAPTER 1**

**THE ORC CAMP**

The forest of Mirkwood was dark and evil in those wretched times. Sauron's forces consumed it and aspired with all their hatred to quench the good that still walked beneath its mighty trees. Yet, the forest was vast and not all good is easily defeated.

Far into the north, past the Mirkwood Mountains, lived the Wood-elves: noble and graceful, mighty and elegant, wise and ancient. They were ruled by their King, Thranduil, who had four sons, all radiantly fair with golden hair and eyes of sky blue. The Elven princes' names, and in order of birth, were Legolas, Haldof, Tarnil, and Galamed. Long had the elves lived in peace and prosperity in the wood, but the Dark Lord had his own design of the fate of all who challenged his will.

Forces were growing in his darkened realm in the south, raiding only to scourge and retreat. Thranduil, stern and absolute, knew that their present course could not continue without soon infringing on his own lands and people. Scouts reported that a camp of goblins lay southeast past the mountains. Three attacks had these Orcs made in a fortnight and Thranduil's patience was spent. Fifty Elven warriors were chosen to lead the assault on the camp. Thranduil's four sons were amongst them.

Haldof, though born a year after Legolas, was always one to assume command. Legolas never felt affronted but regarded some of Haldof's decisions as rather impetuous. This attack required great planning and care; all of which Thranduil awarded to his sons' able control.

Elves assembled at the appointed hour to see their noble kinsmen off. Thranduil stood pensively in the clearing, stars glistening overhead. "For now, part we must, yet shall meet again. May you be swift and sure in battle and return once more." The company bowed low to their great king and moved to depart. Soft Elven voices rose high into the night sky in songs of valour and sodality.

"Legolas, my son," Thranduil called out. Legolas turned and strode back to his father. "You will oversee all, I hope. You are my eldest son and, therefore, in command."

"Aye, Father," Legolas said.

"Haldof, I know, craves leadership and is apt at stirring our hearts. But more so than him, you have a discerning mind. Your knowledge of battle is great, and you are quick to think coolly when situations are harried and critical. He may need your guidance but be reluctant to solicit it."

"I understand."

"Good," Thranduil said as his mind was put at ease. He placed a loving hand on his son's shoulder. "Delay not your return." Legolas nodded and sprung onward with the Elves heading for battle.

The band traveled throughout the night with much haste and reached the foothills the following nightfall. Clouds blew in from the north but hovered menacingly over the summits. No moon could be seen through the thick haze; nonetheless, they went onwards cautiously, resting little.

They halted briefly at the base of the mountains to sup on the fragrant herb bread and pungent cheese they carried with them. Haldof approached his brothers and requested a private meeting with them.

"We should take the pass by Crassus. That route is by far faster, and their camp is near the exit of the trail, so says Nathuil," Haldof said, certainty in his voice.

Legolas sighed; it was as he feared. "Nay, Brother," he said gently. "We ought not attempt that trail. It is known to our enemies and will be watched. The Veridis path is known only to us. It will ensure the element of surprise. They must not suspect our attack."

"You do not know it is watched. Moreover, we could handle an attack if there was one, which I doubt."

"It is a risk not worth taking. If our coming were discovered, we would be trapped. Nay, it is wiser to take the Veridis path and ensnare them from behind."

Haldof merely nodded, but did not appear to agree. "What say you?" he said to Tarnil and Galamed. "What is your opinion?"

Tarnil and Galamed eyed each other with silent conversation. They were the youngest of the brothers and were born more than a century after Haldof and Legolas. By nature they were each tame except during the heat of battle. Neither Tarnil nor Galamed wished to join this dispute, but Tarnil spoke first. "I think we should take the Veridis path."

Haldof nodded and turned then to Galamed. "And you?"

"I agree," Galamed answered.

Haldof nodded. "As you wish, Brothers," was his only reply before marching away.

With the path now chosen, they immediately set out on it. It was a difficult ramble which led them great distances out of their way. Haldof repeatedly gave his brothers reproving glances, but said nothing. As they rose ever higher up the mountain, a cold wind swept through their robes with frigid steadiness.

Upon their descent, they stopped for a few hours rest and simple fare in the lee of a battered rock. As trees grew sparsely on the crumbling stone, the bottom of Veridis had to be met ere the sunrise or they would be exposed to watchful eyes. At length, Galamed approached Legolas.

"I am concerned for Haldof. He has spoken to none for two days. Perhaps we should have taken the other path."

Legolas gazed deeply into his brother's eyes. They resembled his own. "The risk was too great. Do you now disagree?"

"No," said Galamed with resolution. "It simply pains me to see him thus. He envies you, you know. Well, there is naught to be done now," Galamed continued. "Shall I ready everyone?" Legolas nodded and Galamed strode off in duty.

- - -

All were again assembled and set forth down the mountain. The bottom was reached prior to dawn and they shielded themselves with the cover of woodland. Many miles were yet between them and the Orc camp. They stopped once reluctantly during the day, and then pressed on.

The sun was setting, but the air fell oppressively on the southern side of the mountains, and each Elf felt it. It was Legolas who finally called a halt.

"We are but three miles to the pass of Crassus. We shall take refuge here for the night."

Quietly and efficiently, camp was set but no fires lit. A great watch was positioned and appointed with relief every four hours. Legolas gazed at the stars which were peeping through the ceiling of the forest. Haldof approached and stood at his side.

"The air is foul here," Haldof said at length. He sighed and grew sad. "When I think of what once was..." There was no need to continue. Legolas remembered all too well himself how glorious Greenwood was until the Shadow came; then all fell dark, and evil grew. All was still dark.

"You were probably correct concerning the pass of Crassus," said Haldof, humbly. "It would have been foolish." Legolas gazed at his brother and smiled. He held out his arm, and Haldof, seeing it, grasped his forearm. They stood there momentarily, contented brothers, before joining the others.

All agreed the attack must come during daylight as Orcs by nature detest the sun and crave gloom and shadow. Legolas sent two scouts on ahead and at dawn, they returned.

"They have been dwelling in holes at the foot of the Crassus path," said Nathuil, one of the spying pair. Upon hearing this, Legolas and Haldof exchanged glances. Haldof sat abashed.

Nathuil continued. "There are many. Of those that we have slain in the fortnight past, more have arrived and in greater numbers."

"How many?" asked Legolas.

"Two hundred, perhaps more," replied Nathuil. A silence hung in the air. They were heavily outnumbered. Legolas sighed. He did not like it at all. Haldof broke the silence.

"We should attack now, and charge at them with full force."

Legolas spoke reluctantly. "Nay, that would be leaving our backs to the enemy. They could flank us."

The fires in Haldof's eyes were relit. "They will be unprepared for a fight today. As you have said, we shall have the element of surprise to aid us." He held out his arm to Legolas. "Trust me, Brother."

Legolas grasped Haldof's forearm and nodded in unwilling agreement. The conspirators soon disbursed and Legolas sat alone to contemplate the battle ahead.

- - -

The Elves departed within minutes and approached the Orc camp with great speed. All was still and quiet in the forest, and none could hear the soft footfalls of Elven feet. They approached the camp cautiously, bows raised, poised to kill.

Suddenly, a loud, crude clang rang out. A foul voice blared out: "Elves! We're under attack!" Orcs sprung out of their holes clad in boorish, black mail. Elven bows sang and many Orcs were slaughtered until they came too close to shoot. In one graceful motion, Legolas pulled out his long, white blade and made full attack with the others slicing throat and belly alike. Goblins were falling; the battle was being won!

Boom! The ground vibrated under their feet. From what seemed all around them, rose a deep, bellowing noise. Boom, doom, boom, the drum rang and Orcs appeared, hidden at first from holes, and behind trees. Boom, doom! More than a hundred Orcs charged from behind, flanking them. The breath caught in Legolas's throat. It was as he had feared.

The fighting momentarily ceased as Elves and Orcs stood ready, each watching their opponents with a killer's eye. Vulgar laughter erupted from the Orcs, but the Elves' courage did not falter. As Orcs charged, arrows and blades flew striking each target true. The Orcs, however, were many and swarmed lone elves that had been separated from their kinsmen. Legolas was among them.

Haldof gazed in terror upon seeing Legolas separated and swarmed. "Legolas!" he cried out in desperation. He moved to go to his brother's aid when the drums sounded again, and yet another wave attacked. Fighting was fierce and grisly. When the clash subsided, Haldof sounded for retreat. The majority of Orcs had been slain, and the remainder were now scattered, about to regroup. Three Elves had been slain during the battle and they were hurriedly carried off before another attack. The survivors, bloody and wounded, took rest a mile east of the camp. There was, however, no sign of Legolas.

"Perhaps he's been taken," Tarnil said, worried.

Haldof thought hard, heart racing. "I saw him being dislocated from the battle. They were pursuing him south."

"Surely we must search for him," Galamed said, looking forlorn.

Haldof's thoughts were clouded for a moment, in despair. "Nay," he said at last. "You must relate all to our father. Our fallen must be returned to our kinsfolk."

Tarnil was quick to rebuke. "But we cannot abandon our brother!"

"Nay, I said not so. I will go in search of Legolas. I place you both in command. You must tell our father the events of this day."

Distressed, Tarnil and Galamed looked at each other and relented. They were to lead the warriors over the Veridis path homeward, and Haldof went alone into the wild in search of his brother.

**Author's Note:** Please Review!


	2. Chapter II The Road East

**CHAPTER 2**

**THE ROAD EAST**

The Orcs had battled Legolas fiercely, but he had cleverly escaped their grasp and was unharmed. Separated from his company, stranded and alone, he now had only what he carried on his person: his clothing of green and brown, his bow, a quiver of arrows, and a long, white Elven knife.

The attack and pursuit had driven him far south of the mountains, deep into the perilous domain of the spiders. He knew well of the villainous spiders who were eager to drink the blood of any man, elf, or orc who had the misfortune of becoming tangled in their webs. A lone elf wandering in a land such as that, even in daylight, was vulnerable indeed. He hid near a shaded thicket and puzzled as to his next move. "Returning the way I came would be folly. The enemy is bound to search that way." Legolas knelt to the earth. Fresh tracks could clearly be seen in the disturbed soil. "Orcs, and many." He stood and extracted his bow and would keep it in hand. "Southeast is the wisest direction to take," he thought, and moved stealthily off again for the Veridis path.

Hours passed and evening sky spread widely overhead like a gruesome hand. Legolas stumbled abruptly upon something he did not intend, and would much rather have avoided. In front of him stood saddened trees snared with mammoth webs. The silky ropes hung like interconnected walls in a great labyrinth from which there was no path of escape. He could go no further.

His sharp Elven ears heard a clicking noise and within a flash, Legolas's bow was armed. His gaze rose, and high in the gnarled, twisted trees sat an inky spider, its many eyes staring his way. Though not as large as some he had slain throughout his long lifetime, he was ever wise that even the smallest spider in Mirkwood was deadly.

It sat, poised, clicking delightedly to itself. What a treat! A nice, juicy Elf, all alone. "You fearful of little me?" it said in a rasping, hissing voice. "I cannot harm a great Elf like you."

Legolas said nothing but stepped cautiously back. Retreat was the wisest course.

"Where are you going?" the spider asked, its pincers snapping together. It made no movement to overtake him; it simply sat in the tree, waiting. Legolas stepped further backward. His sense of dread was increasing every moment.

"Now Siiliis! Catch him!" the spider cried. Legolas whirled, looked up and saw a massive spider sinking down upon him. He bolted out of the way and loosed his arrow once more. Siiliis screeched and twitched uncontrollably while green, slimy ooze flowed from the wound. It then made a horrible hissing cry and lunged for him. Legolas cast down his bow, drew out his knife and, swinging madly, sliced three legs from the enormous beast before stabbing it fatally in its belly. He stepped back and wiped the filth off his weapon with the spider's wooly coat. Picking up his bow, he glanced back at the small spider; it was still sitting in the tree, now trembling and recoiling into the darkness. Legolas sheathed his blade, and resumed his journey.

- - -

Sunlight began to diminish. The Old Forest Road had been reached, but little comfort did that bring as he suspected it would be watched. Not an hour passed before all was completely dark. Legolas stopped still on the shadowy road and grasped his bow. His keen Elven ears had not failed him. Voices from the south! Legolas could hear their loud cursing as they approached. About to retreat, he was halted again by the noise of even more voices coming along the path from the north.

"Gâshk, you're a simple-minded fool!" the voice said in the Common Speech.

Legolas quickly reacted to his predicament and jumped lightly off the path and into the underbrush of an immense beech. He pulled out his long blade, resting it behind him and sat perfectly still. Voices grew louder and their foul makers suddenly appeared. Three Orcs stepped into Legolas's limited view, each filth ridden and sinister. Their evil yellow eyes scanned about the darkness. One had only three fingers on his left, blackened hand, Legolas observed. "I know I heard something," it said.

"You always think you've heard something," replied another. The cool, spring wind rustled some newborn leaves.

"Quiet!" the three fingered one ordered odiously. They all stood still, listening attentively. An Orc slowly approached Legolas's hiding place, something had caught its okra coloured eye. Had it seen the sheen of his blade? The Orc leaned toward the brush, peering in. Legolas sat perfectly still; the hilt of his blade gripped tightly in his right hand. The Orc, unable to see inside the brush leaned forward still, until suddenly, a loud howl was heard as six Orcs pounced onto the road. All blades were instantly drawn and then let fall at their sides. A massive Orc stepped forth. Legolas recognized him immediately as among the same Orcs that attacked him earlier.

"You scraping dogs!" it roared. The three from the east merely stood, unamused. "You missed a hard battle, but now you hunt with us."

"We have our orders, Ugnúl," said the three fingered one. "Khnásh's orders were to patrol the road."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Ugnúl let out a vindictive laugh upon seeing the large Orc's confused expression. "He's not heard." The gang around Ugnúl laughed equally wickedly. "Khnásh is dead. I'm in command now. Got that Lâsh?" he said, pointing to the three-fingered one. "There's a nasty little Elf out there that I mean to catch."

"Elves dwell in the north, not the south," Lâsh replied.

"We passed his handiwork," said one of Ugnúl's cronies. "Wretched spiders! Nearly spoilt our sport!"

"He's here, but he won't get far," Ugnúl assured the gang. "He'll be heading north. I'll lay wagers he's been along this road."

"No Elf has passed our watch. I can vouch for that," Lâsh snarled.

"Vouch? Ha!" Ugnúl smirked. "You clods wouldn't notice if a troll passed you! We take the road. We'll catch him."

"He's not gone past I tell you!" Lâsh declared.

"Caught you napping, did he?" Ugnúl said. "Well, I'd like to see him get by me! Let's go!" he ordered. The gang of Orcs moved resolutely northward, and again all fell quiet in the forest. Legolas remained still for a while, pondering his next move. He shook his head, not liking the choices laid out for him. The safest route, he believed, now lay ahead, not behind. Farther south he must travel, then turn east until reaching the Celduin River. From there, home would be but a short distance, and a familiar one.

He rose and, once again, set out into the cursed darkness. He had much fear of what lay hidden in the south. Orcs frequently had legions moving around Dol Guldur which festered with evil forces. Wargs, allegiant to Sauron, roamed in packs, ready to sniff out any intruder in their territory, and there was always the possibility of stumbling into another spider's domain.

- - -

Night passed slowly, and subdued daylight finally broke in. He was fatigued; the previous day's trials had been great, but he found no place suitable or safe enough for rest. A slight wind brushed Legolas's face, but the air was heavy and hot.

As he journeyed on throughout the day, his heart grew discouraged. He crossed paths with no one and was acutely aware of every noise the creaking wood made. It was murky under the tall boughs of the massive trees, despite the sun being high in the sky. He passed neither stream nor pond, and his thirst was steadily mounting. The trees encircled him like giant, brown walls, stretching out as far as his elven eyes could see.

The sun began to sink in the west, but he could not see the dying orb. As darkness grew, the air fell even heavier. Orcs would come out of their foul holes soon, and be hot after his trail. He knew that they would have realized their error by now and altered their route. Of course, an elf leaves no trail: no marks upon the earth, at least. Loathsome wargs, however, were fierce stalkers. Not even an elf can escape what a warg can smell, and where the warg howls, an Orc is surely near.

Fortunately, one of the places a Wood-elf is most at home is in a tree. He stood at the trunk of a beech and let his soft hand rest upon its rough bark. He could feel the life under his palm, circulating and emitting a strong essence. Legolas jumped up, caught the bough, and gracefully pulled himself up. He climbed nimbly up the sturdy branches, up and up. Nearing a hundred feet from the ground, at last his head protruded from the roof of the forest. The sky was a radiant golden orange, and nearest to the earth, a dusky purple. Up on the tips of the treetops, Legolas closed his eyes as he felt the sweet, cool air sweep through his long, flaxen hair. The air was fresh, not weighty as in the bowels of the forest.

- - -

The sun set and night crept in. Evil would soon be underfoot. Gazing up into the sky, Legolas could see the glorious twinkling of Eärendil, the Elves most beloved star. More stars peeked out and Legolas's spirits were lifted. Yet, under their soft, watchful gaze, he knew he could not remain. He must be on the move ere the gruesome creatures caught whiff of him.

With deep regret, he lowered himself neath the forest roof and all was dark. Again the heavy air strangled his throat, but linger, he could not.

He climbed down ten feet and began to make his trek to the next tree. Up so high in the trees, no warg's nose could go. He leaped lightly from branch to branch, ever careful not to slip. It was slow moving in the gloom, but after he had passed three miles in the trees, rest was desperately needed, and well deserved. He found a mighty bough and lay atop it. His eyes remained open all night, while his head filled with ominous dreams.

Far off, now and then throughout the night, the sullen howl of wargs could be heard. Not close enough to alarm him, but he knew he was being hunted. He could feel the disturbing threat of evil steadily grow closer, and yet remain at a distance. For now, nonetheless, he would be safe.

- - -

The darkness rose slowly from the thick of the woods as daylight began to stream in. It would be safe now to move to the forest floor. Climbing down the tree, he jumped the last fifteen feet, landing by a bubbling stream. Indeed, he was thirsty; his mouth was exceedingly parched. He gazed into the pool, suspiciously. A white foam churned upon its surface, and a fetid vapour arose from its slimy rocks. It was not fit to drink. He would simply have to wait.

There was no path for him to follow, and even if there had been, he would not set foot upon it. Evil has eyes in many places and, undoubtedly, all roads would be watched.

The woodland seemed eerily calm as he walked along that morning. No birds sang out. No wind blew. No leaves rustled. The air remained just as heavy as the day before. Evil was near, even though the sun shone. All was quiet and still.

Legolas pushed on quickly through the day, running like a deer from a hunter. Even though he had now travelled more than ten leagues south, the peril in his mind did not diminish. It lingered with him throughout his journey, and each time he paused for rest, it seemed to rise again. He knew wrathful Orcs were coming for him.

Night was already beginning to fall. Too soon. He had not travelled far enough to his liking. Orcs can be fearless hunters and move with swift speed when they have the notion. It would not take long for them to discover his route. He resolved to run on until dusk and then make his home in the trees as he had done so the night before.

He wished to be on the easternmost edge of Mirkwood in two days at the most, and hoped only that he could remain elusive until then. He could handsomely slay a large group of Orcs by himself, but he knew not the number of his pursuers. Orcs, renowned for moving cowardly in hordes, are ready to stamp out and slaughter any poor tree, beast, or creature they meet. Legolas knew he could not defend himself against a strengthened squadron, fatigued as he was. The lack of water, food, and sleep was beginning to affect him. He simply must make it to the forest rim. Once there, escape would be much easier. The dense air made running arduous. His lungs ached.

It was not long before it was too dark and dangerous to run any farther. Legolas discovered an ancient oak with a massive trunk, and long, gnarled branches. Climbing the great tree proved difficult for his enervated body, but once high above the earth, he again moved with ease as he began his nightly expedition from tree to tree.

The menace that continued to haunt his senses had not waned with the setting of the sun. Rather, it intensified. Legolas's bright elven eyes flared in the dark of the wood, searching for any sign of danger. Scant light, however, allowed them to see very little.

Orcs! Legolas could feel them approach from afar. They felt distant but were moving swiftly and coming ever closer. "No rest again tonight, and I am already weary. If they are on the move, so must I be. I cannot linger, cannot wait, for their visit is impending."

Lightly, he stepped from branch to branch, crawling through walls of thick foliage. The forest grew denser. Immense vines choked his path until there was no way to go but back or down. The thorns which grew on the vines were small, but sharp as a dragon's claw. "Dragon's Snare," he said irritably. The slightest touch would tear the flesh. They scratched at his hands and pulled at his clothes.

Legolas drew out his long, pearly, white knife and struck mightily at the strong cords. They were sliced, but broke away only slightly. He slashed his blade repeatedly against the hardy ropes, yet in the end, to no avail. Crumbling vines broke loose only to reveal more vines adorned with thorny hooks. Advancing proved impossible; he could move forward in the trees no longer. Thus, he was now faced with a daunting dilemma: to remain there for the night, or return to the earth and make his way on foot. Neither choice was free of risk. To remain, immobile, in the trees seemed unwise. Orcs were closing in at that very moment. His only other choice, however, was equally unappealing as wargs would surely pick up his scent. He could not mask his trail.

Legolas decided his best chance now was below the trees, rather than in them, this night. If he remained and was discovered, he would be trapped and have no possible means of escape.

He leapt out of the tree and stood very still in the dark. He closed his eyes and listened to the whispers of the forest. The Orcs had moved closer. Yes, that was certain.

A warg's shrill howl rang out. Legolas's eyes flashed open. The warg was close, and off to the south. There was no time to waste.

He ran into the pitch with no stars or moon to guide him. Onward and eastward he went, and more roaring howls answered the first. Some felt more northward, others westward. There was now no doubt; they had discovered him at last. Their meeting seemed imminent.

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead stood a massive warg, the fur along its spine standing up like giant spikes, its growl menacing. In a flash, Legolas had his bow in hand, ready to shoot. He stared at the warg; the warg stared back. Legolas could now sense other creatures around him, closing in. Glancing about, he saw two other wargs inching closer, baring their monstrous teeth.

Out of the night stepped a group of Orcs. They joined the Wargs, forming a circle, and mockingly pointed at Legolas, all the while laughing fiendishly. Their leader swaggered forward, fist tightly clutching his crude blade. He was huge in body and grotesque in face. His bulbous yellow eyes glowed threateningly in the murky blackness. It was Ugnúl.

"You're a sly Elf, I'll give you that," said Ugnúl in the Common Tongue. It was a gruff, heinous voice which emanated from a foul, rotting mouth showing strings of greenish saliva. "But that is a trait common among Elves, I should think. You're all slippery little sneaks, aren't you?"

Legolas made no reply. The Orc could talk all he wished too, but as soon as his moment would come, Legolas would be ready.

A smaller Orc approached its leader. "We must not linger under these trees, Ugnúl!"

"Maggot! You think I fear one measly Elf?!" Ugnúl growled.

"It is not the Elf we fear, Ugnúl," said another. "We could handle a hundred of 'em."

"It is the witch," said the smaller Orc. "We're too close to her lair."

"What feeble-minded tales have you idiots been listening to?!" Ugnúl replied, a look of bitter disgust upon his gruesome face.

"They are true! We must leave!" insisted the smaller Orc.

"I hear she can kill you just by looking at you," said another, growing nervous.

"She can make herself invisible! She could be here right now!" shouted the small Orc. The others grew restless, and looked frantically about the darkness for any sign of the witch. Ugnúl glared his contempt and raised a filthy, bloodstained sword.

"Cowards!" Ugnúl shouted. Then, in one lightning swift motion, he severed the smaller Orc's head. Its body slumped to the ground, lifeless yet still twitching, and its head rolled and disappeared into the inky blackness. The other Orcs fell back with dread, fearing for the safety of their own necks. When Ugnúl turned to face Legolas again, he was gone.

"Idiots! Where did he slip off to?" Ugnúl demanded.

The Orcs quickly looked around and saw the three bodies of the wargs. They had all been struck in the throat by elven arrows.

"Search everywhere!" Ugnúl thundered. "If he is not found by sunrise, you'll each regret it."

Legolas, meanwhile, had been watching the chaotic scene from a high bough of a nearby tree. Luckily, no eyes had risen upward. Orcs scattered, and soon all were gone. A short while passed. It was still some hours before daybreak, and too dangerous to remain where he was. There was naught for it. He must make an attempt.

He sprang to the earth, and waited; nothing stirred. He sprinted toward the east, in the direction of the rising sun. Ugnúl, however, was too clever. He had been waiting behind a thick trunk and pounced on the Elf knocking them both to the hard earth. Legolas found his knife directly. They rose, malice filling each other's faces. Ugnúl attacked, but Legolas was quick with his weapon. Orcs approached and cheered as the two warriors struck at each other with furious might. Their blades tangled, and Ugnúl served a swift blow which sent Legolas onto his back a few feet from the crowd. His knife landed grievously out of reach. Ugnúl stepped forth to finish the kill when a holler rang out. "Ugnúl! You mustn't!"

"Try and stop me, weakling!" Ugnúl roared to his underdog.

"Please yourself," the Orc replied with a sneer, "if you like to burn. That is the boundary of the witch's lair. They say any Orc that crosses it, bursts into flame."

Legolas stood up and glanced nervously about him. Little could be seen in the dark. It appeared to him the same as the rest of the forest.

"What Elvish rubbish is this?" Ugnúl demanded. "If you're so witless to believe in such lies, then you'll see this witch for yourself!" Ugnúl grabbed the Orc with both hands and threw him toward Legolas. In a sudden and glorious flash, the Orc was doused with bright, searing fire. A shrill wail filled the air. The writhing creature stumbled back and the flames immediately died out. His skin was now burnt blacker than the night, and the strong scent of charred flesh and hair filled the air. The other Orcs grew fearful and began to retreat. "What sorcery is this?" they cried as they fled. Legolas and Ugnúl were now alone in the dark.

A malicious smile spread onto Ugnúl's putrid face. "Look for me, Elf! Look for me when you go to leave this place...and there you shall find me."

Ugnúl then withdrew into the black abyss. Legolas dared not move else cross the invisible boundary which now protected him. He would be safe now from the Orcs at least, but of this witch, he could not imagine. "Is she Elven?" he thought. "The magic that guards her lair is exceptionally powerful." Legolas could remember none but the High Elves who bore such magic and power. "If she guards against Orcs, then, surely, I have naught to fear."

Resigning himself to that belief, Legolas lay down against a tree. He would sleep on the ground tonight.

**Author's Note:** Kindly review, please!


	3. Chapter III The Woodland Witch

**CHAPTER 3**

**THE WOODLAND WITCH**

Legolas slept far into the morning, catching up on much needed rest. When at last he did wake, his first thought was that he was still tucked away in some Elvish dream. He was in the forest, but not at all like the forest he had been traveling through. The sun shone; light came streaming down in great golden waves which lit up the entire glade. Wild flowers of white and blue grew in shaded places and set off a strong, honey scent. The fresh, warm air was filled with melodious birdsong. Leaves on branches danced gaily in the soft refreshing breeze which brushed past his face. "Do I still dream?" he thought.

Legolas stood up. His knife still lay where it had fallen the night before. He picked it up and returned it to its sheath. Gazing at the ground, he now understood what the Orc meant by 'boundary'. There was a long, well defined line of rich grass as far as his eye could see to his left and right. On the other side of the boundary, the grass lay yellowed and sickly. The forest beyond it fell dark and brooding as it had been the days before. When he turned back, he noticed a path leading up a hill, deep into the sun-filled wood. Legolas looked about him. His eyes glanced from forest to forest, unsure which way to go.

"I shall seek out this witch," he thought. He stepped lightly onto the path, eyes vigilant for any sign of the mysterious matron. He was, after all, trespassing in her realm. She might not take kindly to uninvited visitors. He followed the path up the hill and down again. The terrain altered as he walked on. Foothills rose into towering cliffs to his right and left; the highest peak soared almost twelve hundred feet into the air. Naked rock emerged in places, but the inclined terrain was mostly adorned with tall trees. "I would like to explore this more," he thought as he strolled along. "How is it that I have not heard of this secluded lair?"  
The path stretched onward, leading farther into the hills, deeper into the Witch's domain. Trees were plentiful, yet the sun peeked through the brush here and there and illuminated the path which twisted upwards, ascending to a small ridge. Looking around, Legolas could see a bright opening through the dense foliage and soon found himself at the edge of a beautiful meadow. It was small and encircled by gracefully swaying elms. In the center stood a modest sized, wooden house. He approached it cautiously. Two windows on its western side and a slanted roof with a rough, stone chimney poking through were the main features visible. Soft, grey smoke floated lazily into the sky. He stepped forward, ever cautious, and approached a door that appeared to lead to the kitchen. The door was divided in half, the top half being open. Legolas was unable to see anyone inside but could smell something cooking. An alluring aroma filled the glen. A small, spring-fed pond sat near the house along with a garden of wild flowers and a lone willow tree; its drooping branches dipped into the water creating tiny ripples.

Suddenly, a woman carrying a large basket stepped out from behind the house. "What's this?" Legolas wondered. No Elf-witch, it could clearly be seen. She appeared to be a young, mortal woman. She was not tall or slender like an elf, yet very fair. Her most unusual feature, Legolas thought, was her brilliant, fiery red hair. Legolas had never seen hair that shade before, and marveled at its hue. It was long and curled, trailing down to her waist. She wore a dress the colour of the forest, whose cloth seemed inexpertly made as if it had been home spun and woven. No adornment graced her save that of a necklet of braided fresh lavender.  
The maiden busied herself by hanging wet linen onto some twine joined from the house to the willow tree. She hummed a tune to herself as she worked and Legolas recognized it instantly. It was the Elven song of Lúthien Tinúviel. "Curious," Legolas thought to himself.

All at once, her work and music ceased and she stood completely still as if in deep thought. Then, quite slowly, she turned and looked directly at Legolas. Her eyes were deep and penetrating. He started, not knowing what to do. A smile spread onto her face. Not a malicious smile; it was a friendly, knowing smile, somehow. She approached Legolas and spoke. "You've finally come. _Elven sila lúmenn' omentielvo_," she added in High Speech, while making a slight curtsy. "I've been waiting for you."

Legolas stood agape. "You've been waiting for me?" he repeated, uncertain.

"Of course. Come! You must be famished. Those Orcs are savage, cruel creatures." She walked to her curious dwelling and opened the lower door. Realizing then that Legolas had not followed her, she turned again to him. "Come," she gestured delicately with her hand, and disappeared into the house.

Legolas soon found his feet and moved in closer. He stopped in the open doorway and peered inside. The interior was clean and tidy. Shelves full of clay jars of all different sizes filled the back wall. Against it sat a hand-hewn, oak table with four chairs, while a large, pine cupboard stood near the window. The lady added more fuel to the fire; a pot bubbled noisily on the hearth.

"Come in, come in. Do not be shy. I will not eat you, you know," the maiden said playfully as she made her preparations. "You may set your weapons down there," she suggested, pointing to the floor near the doorway, "...or wear them if you wish. You are not in danger here, I assure you."

Legolas was skeptical at first, but, in the end, felt that it would be discourteous to bring weapons to a seemingly friendly meal. He unfastened his weapon's harness and set it down beside the door.

"Please, you may sit here," she said, directing him to a chair.

"Thank you very much indeed. It has been days since my last meal."

A twinge of pity pierced her heart. She could see that the orcs and forest had worn him. "Well, I beg you eat to your heart's content." She then brought forth his meal. The first to be set down was a handwoven basket full of warm, brown bread. It was fresh, moist and cast a tempting, herbal fragrance. A small crock was placed beside it filled with cool, velvety butter. Then came a large bowl in which she ladled a steaming, savory, vegetable stew of carrots, peas, beans, mushrooms, potatoes and other fine garden treasures. Beside it was set another bowl, but this one was of ripe raspberries filled dangerously close to the rim. She placed an earthenware cup on the table and into it poured ruby-red elderberry wine. Legolas could already taste the wine even though it had yet to touch his lips. He surveyed the fare appreciatively. His examination did not escape her keen eye.

"It is a modest meal, I know. I ask your pardon for not having any meat to serve you. I have not the heart to kill animals."

"Do not reprimand yourself on my account. This is a superb meal and fine enough to gladden the heart of a weary traveler!"

"You are very kind. Now, if you'll forgive me, I must finish my work outside."

"Of course," Legolas replied, softly. He rose from the table as she exited.

The common, country food could not be compared to that of Elven meals, naturally. The fare of his people, developed over many millennia, was always luscious, nourishing, subtle, exquisite. However, upon completion of this meal, he felt relaxed, comfortable, invigorated. The trials of his last days melted away. He stepped outside into sunlight.

"You have eaten sufficiently, I hope?" she asked, cheerfully.

Legolas turned. The maiden was kneeling on the earth, working in a small herb garden beside the house. "I have. It was excellent. Again, allow me to thank you."

"I am always glad to shelter a friendly traveler and offer assistance where I can," she replied while rising and brushing herself off.

"If you will pardon me, I as yet do not know to whom I owe this kindness."

Her eyes closed for a moment, and she smiled. "I'm sure you'll think me quite boorish. Forgive me. I would have done so sooner, only, I was so happy at your arrival. I had become exceedingly worried. Mithryn, I am called."

"I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood," he said, bowing.

Mithryn blushed slightly. Never had she entertained such an exalted guest before. "You are most welcome here."

Legolas nodded and gazed again at her small garden. "You have an interest in herbs?"

"Yes. They are mostly medicinal." Green shoots and flowers of varying shapes and sizes swayed in the gentle breeze.

"I see some that I know." Legolas bent down and gently touched the soft petals. "_Malva_ we call this," he said, pointing to one.

"It is known to me as Mallow," Mithryn said.

Legolas smiled at her. "_Salvia_," he said, pointing to another.

"Sage."

"_Vinalis_."

"Speedwell," she added, smiling.

He rose. "You are a studier of herbs?"They began to walk down the same path that brought him to her. "My mother was a great healer among my people. It was she who taught me." Mithryn stopped at the edge of the path and picked some flowers with long stems. The blooms were small and white, growing in great clusters.

"Ah, I know this herb; _Ulmaria_."

"Meadowsweet. My favourite." The scent traveled far throughout her realm; 'twas the sweet scent of almond. Her dainty fingers deftly twisted and braided the vines.

"You are not an Elf," Legolas stated, perplexed, as their walk resumed.

"No," she replied, eyes and hands kept busy.

"And yet you speak Elvish. High Elvish, which is a rarity. There are few of whom I know that can speak it who are not Elves."

"My father taught me when I was a child. He insisted I learn to speak Sindarin and Quenya, but I fear I have forgotten much."

They stopped walking for a moment. Legolas found himself nestled in the forest at the foot of a towering hill. The trees were thick, but a narrow path trailed up and around the hill. Mithryn turned to him with a mischievous smile upon her face. "A humble gift, my lord," she said, holding the delicate necklet in her hands. Legolas smiled at his gift and bowed his head. She stepped forward and placed the ring of flowers over his head.

"Thank you. But please, I would ask you to call me Legolas. My father is the lord of my people, not I."

"As you wish, Legolas. Now, you may go first. Elves have lighter feet than those born of Man, I know," said Mithryn, stepping aside. Legolas hesitated, but did not feel that any amount of coaxing would change her mind. He simply nodded thankfully, and stepped lightly on to the path. It was indeed a steep climb, but did not trouble him. Occasionally, the path took them so close to the edge of the precipice that Legolas felt fear of Mithryn's safety.

"It's all right," she said comfortingly as she cautiously stepped along the sheer ledge. "Hallathúle has not pushed me off yet."

"_Hallathúle_?"

"This hillock."

"You call the hillock Tallspirit?"

"Well he is, don't you think?"

Legolas smiled. "Yes."

The trees rose with them, yet every now and then they came to a gap from which they could gaze out into the splendor of the vast horizon. From their present height, they could see just above the treetops. They smiled at each other and continued walking.

The third stage of the climb was steps, crude and steep, cut out of giant slabs of stone. The ancient, weathered rock crumbled in patches and great care was needed when climbing. "Did you mason these, yourself?" Legolas asked, thoughtfully.

"Nay, I found them as such. Whoever cut them, has long departed."

They climbed onward and upward. Mithryn's foot slipped on an unsteady stone, but Legolas's quick reflexes caught her arm swiftly. He then gently grasped her hand and did not let go when she steadied herself. Mithryn's large green eyes glanced from their hands back to his face. "Let me help you," he offered, suddenly shy. She nodded and their ascent continued.

At last the climb leveled off and they reached the top. Legolas helped her up the last step and then let go of her tiny hand. He walked about to behold his surroundings and what he saw was all magnificence. Far below them lay a green sea of leaves which swayed and rustled playfully with the wind. The immense forest reached the horizon in every direction. Far off into the distance in the north, small peaks of the Mirkwood Mountains were yet discernable. Below shone the pretty heath and Mithryn's little cottage with its chimney smoking merrily. The sun sparkled on her tiny pond that glittered like diamonds in the deep Dwarf mines. "What a splendid view! I should think every Elf in Mirkwood would wish to see this."

"During less dangerous times, I have met several Elves passing through the wood on their way to the Grey Havens. They took rest here before resuming their long journey and joyed in seeing this sight, as you do now."

"How long have you lived here so alone?" Legolas asked.

"Oh, not long...by Elven standards, anyway. I know a hundred years is but a day to you immortals," Mithryn said, cheerfully. Legolas smiled, for he knew she spoke the truth. She paused and gazed unseeing into the clear, iridescent sky. "I have resided here longer than one would think, however," she continued, now more seriously. Her eyes seemed filled with sorrowed thought.

"Mithryn, the orcs I encountered called you a witch," he stated, breaking the silence. That remark returned the smile to her face. "How is it that you knew I was coming? How did you know I was attacked by orcs? Are you a witch?" Legolas stared at her, his eyes displaying neither fear nor suspicion. They simply stared into hers, gently.

"I think we should be getting back soon," Mithryn replied. "Night is setting in."

"Can Orcs come near?"

"Nay," she said, "but climbing down Hallathúle is hazardous even in the light." Legolas nodded, and they began their descent. He thought it best to let unanswered questions lie.

He could not help but stare at her, now and then, as he helped her down the slippery slope. She was unlike any Elf-maiden or mortal he had met before. There was an inexplicable aura around her which seemed to glow; a mystic force emanating from her. He felt enchanted by her shy ways and gentle temperament. "And yet," he thought, "she shrouds herself in mystery." He marveled at how one so young and isolated could protect herself so well. The villainy which filled Mirkwood was fierce, unmerciful and savage. He knew that to survive, she must be very powerful indeed.

- - -

The sun had set only to reveal that the velvet night possessed her own inimitable glory. Stars were in abundance and twinkled and shone down on the pair as they withdrew from the wood at last. Legolas stopped and gazed upward.

"Beautiful, are they not?" Mithryn said admiringly. "I often walk under the stars and then I do not feel quite so alone."

"Why do you live here so secluded?"

"My kinsfolk died long ago."

"What happened to them?"

Mithryn looked at him. He was standing tall, strong and powerful. "Come, let us go inside. I'll make us something warm to drink."

Inside, the fire's embers were glowing softly and were about to extinguish. Mithryn added more fuel and a bright blaze soon erupted. She hung an ancient black kettle over the crackling flames. "Are you hungry? I could prepare something."

"Nay, I am quite well." Legolas sat at the table; his eyes, like slaves, following every move she made. When the kettle was boiled and the fragrant, herbal tea poured, she finally sat with him. A smile brightened her face, but Legolas could see her brow still flexed with concern. "My people came from the Gladden Fields," she said.

"I know them. Not well; I do not often travel that way."

"Well, my mother and her kinfolk lived there a long time, as I recall. I know that they settled there after abandoning their own lands. I believe it was in danger of being over-run by Sauron's forces." She paused and shook her head. "It has been a long while since I've even thought about this; it has been many years. It is hard to remember."

Legolas's brow creased with concern. "Do not feel troubled. This tale need not be told now. I do not wish you grief."

"No, no," Mithryn assured. "I'd like to tell you." She paused. "Well, let us see. My father was a great traveler. As a child, I remember him telling me tales of his journeys. He had roamed most of his life until he traveled to the Gladden Fields. My mother was older, like him, and had never married. They fell in love and were wed that summer; I was born the following spring. I remember a few years of peace and happiness in my village. My father journeyed still, and at times was gone for many months. But, seasons would pass and he would return. I was nearly twelve years old the last time I saw him. He returned to us after being away many months, but his face looked worn and tired. He was plagued with many worries, I think. He had to leave and, soon after, we were attacked by Orcs."

"Orcs? In the Gladden Fields, you say?"

Mithryn nodded.

A memory reemerged in Legolas's mind. He had heard, for what felt to him but a short space of time, Orcs ravaging through that land. But that was long ago in the years of Men.

Mithryn continued. "I remember my mother telling me to run. I know not how they missed me. I jumped into the Anduin and hid until sunrise. Walking back to our village, I found it completely deserted. There was blood everywhere but no bodies to be found, alive or dead. The wreckage of our houses and wagons was strewn far and wide, but there was no trace of my mother. I waited there for a month, finding bits of food as I could, praying for anyone to return as I had done. But, when none returned, I knew I was on my own."  
"What did you do?"

"Orcs were still in the area and staying became perilous. I saw Mirkwood, so I headed for it. I made my way further into the forest, not knowing which way to go until, at last, I came to this little meadow. The house was abandoned, so I set up my home here, and here I have lived since."

"And how long have you been here?"

Mithryn took a deep breath. "Seventy eight winters have passed while I have lived here."

"Seventy-eight?" Legolas repeated in surprise. "Yet how is it that you have not aged? Seventy-eight years to Men is a lifetime. And yet, ninety years you say you have lived and to my eyes, you look no more than a mortal of five and twenty."

Mithryn's face grew ever more saddened. "All that you say is true, and I have found no answers to this riddle."

"Why do you not seek it out? Someone must have some answers."

"That same thought has crossed my mind many lonely hours. But time has passed by, and I have stayed still. I only venture out of my small domain to visit the west Woodland Folk who trade for my medicines. Throughout the passing years, myths and tales of me have grown, and my presence is tolerated there, I believe, simply out of fear. I travel for supplies as needed, but otherwise, where would I go?"

Legolas looked long into her virtuous face before rising and gazing out the window. "The stars and moon beckon me. With your permission, Mithryn, I wish to wander your wood and rest under the stars.""You have it, but beware. My realm only extends two miles in every direction. Nothing of evil heart may enter, but if you cross the boundary, you shall be at their mercy."

"I understand," Legolas said and he stepped out into the night. His face turned upward once more and the pale moonlight cast him in a radiant glow. He turned to her. "I cannot imagine how you have lived like this, so alone. Throughout my long life, I have always had loved ones by my side. You must be very strong of heart to live as you do."

"Alas, I have no other choice."

He nodded. "Good night, Mithryn."

"Good night, Legolas."

He shut the doors gently and wandered off into the wilderness. With mended spirits and body, he felt young and alive under the crisp, starlit sky. He walked far that night, resting in open glades, but heeded her warning. "I hope that my brothers are well. They must be greatly worried for my sake now. My poor father, how he must be suffering." It pained him to think of their sorrow. And yet, through all his troubled thoughts, his mind always returned to Mithryn.

**Author's Note:** Please kindly review!


	4. Chapter IV The House of King Thranduil

**CHAPTER 4**

**THE HOUSE OF KING THRANDUIL**

The valiant Elven warriors marched homeward with saddened hearts. Their grief was intense, but their mission crucial. The soldiers nobly carried on their shoulders the three that were slain. Their thoughts were, also, sadly bent toward Legolas and Haldof, of which there had been no further word. Tarnil and Galamed bore the heaviest hearts. Veridis had been crossed, and now they tread on safer ground. They followed the Enchanted River and stopped once more to rest before making the final stretch home and to their people.

"Tarnil," Galamed said to his brother, when finally alone, "how do we tell our father what has happened? The battle was won, but the loss was great. If Legolas and Haldof should not return... We ought to have stayed with Haldof."

"Nay, we have done our duty. We must be the ones to tell our father of Legolas."

Galamed sat by the bank, watching the reflected moon dance upon the water.

"Do not mourn yet; they shall return, Brother. Come," Tarnil said, offering Galamed his outstretched arm. He took it and Tarnil pulled his brother up. "Let us reach our father tonight."

Galamed nodded and Tarnil roused the soldiers.

The company marched onward and turned at last onto the Elf Path. The palace watch had seen the paladins coming and sent word to his lordship. Silver elven trumpets sounded calling the people forth to greet the weary warriors. Lyrical singing filled the night sky, but turned mournful upon the sight of the fallen three. King Thranduil stepped out from his great hall and crossed the lattice-laced bridge. Tarnil and Galamed stood before their father and king; their fallen heros laid at his feet. "This is a grievous loss for all our people," Thranduil said at last. He raised his arms high into the air and said: "May we forever remember the names Numilor, Gwarinth, and Fenos." He lowered his arms and began to sing. "_A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-diriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Nanuilos, le linnathon nef aear, si nef aearon!_"

Elves wept with heads bowed. Thranduil spoke again to the forlorn assembly. "My soldiers, you are weary and sorrowed, but are home at last. Go now and embrace friends and family." The group began to disburse. The king then turned to Tarnil and Galamed. It was then that he first noticed the absence of Legolas and Haldof; his face fell. "Come, my sons," he said, beckoning them to follow.

They did so and entered the massive halls. The ceiling was ornately chiseled out of the mountain itself. Tall, interwoven candlesticks were lit, casting a rich warmth on the wooden chairs trimmed with sparkling filigree. Massive tapestries hung on the walls which told ancient stories of their people. Thranduil sat on his mighty throne, eyes worried. "Tell me, where is Haldof and Legolas?"

Tarnil related all to their father concerning the battle and Legolas's disappearance. Thranduil sat, head bowed, hand covering his mouth, distraught. "And you have had no word or sign of them?" he asked at last, voice faltering.

"Nay, but we have been moving fast and in the opposite direction," Tarnil said.

Thranduil nodded while trying to banish despairing thoughts from his mind."Father," Galamed said at last, "we wish to set out in search of our brother immediately."

"Are you not weary? It has been an arduous journey for you both."

"We shall find no rest until Legolas and Haldof are discovered," Tarnil said, resolutely.

"As you wish." Thranduil rose and placed a loving hand on each of their strong shoulders. "But do not leave each other's side. Of this, you must promise."

They gave their word and prepared to set off again. Elf-maidens quickly supplied them with food, arrows and horses. They bade farewell to their father, and then rode forth with anxious but hopeful hearts.

Word of the prince's disappearance spread swiftly. Legolas was a favourite among his people, and his absence was deeply felt. Elven hearts struggled to remain brave and hopeful. He was not the first of their people to go missing. They instinctively feared the worst. Laments for the fallen and missing were sung far into the dawn of the morning.

- - -

Days passed, and still no word came. Thranduil spent many passing hours alone, shrouded in deep thought. No companionship in his kingdom could offer him any comfort. He had taken to walking under the high branches of his beloved trees, day and night. Eärendil shone and sparkled with brilliant splendor. "Is it vain to think my dear sons also turn to you for comfort this night?"

A guard approached the great king. "My lord," he said, bending on knee.

"Have you word from my sons?" the mighty king asked hastily.

"Nay, my lord. A visitor has arrived from the west and seeks audience with thee," the guard said, rising.  
"Does it concern my sons?"

"I do not think so, your lordship. It is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"Aragorn," Thranduil repeated, mulling the news over in his brain. "Bring him to the great hall. Tell him I shall come directly."

"And of his weapons?"

"He may keep them."

The guard bowed. "Aye, my lord," and strode off toward the massive halls. Thranduil smiled. Indeed, it was his first smile since the company had departed. He turned once more to blessed Eärendil before striding to his palace.

Upon entering the hall, Thranduil was struck with amazement upon the sight of his visitor. Aragorn stood tall, cloaked in black. He looked worn, dirty, and had not dressed for attendance with a king. He held a rope in his hand, and upon the end of it was leashed a foul creature that Thranduil had never before seen. It squatted on the floor like a toad, muttering to itself, and whimpered repulsively. Its skin was stretched thin over its bones. Its eyes glowed eerily like lamps in a mist, darting about the chamber ceaselessly, searching for an escape. A foul stench arose from the creature; Aragorn did not appear to have any love for the piteous being. Thranduil approached Aragorn. They grasped each others forearm and drew close.  
"Aragorn, my dear friend. It has been long since you have graced our halls."

"Indeed, Lord Thranduil. Too long."

They smiled at each other in friendship and released their grip. Thranduil sat on his throne and called for a chair to be set for his friend. Aragorn accepted but maintained a firm handle on the rope.

"Am I to ask then, what you bring me?" Thranduil said, gesturing toward the decrepit creature.

"My lord, this is the creature Gollum, the mischief-maker. The one Gandalf the Grey and I have been searching for these sixteen years."

"Ah, yes. It has been long since we have spoken of him, and at last you have snared the beast. May I now inquire as to the reason for so great a quest? He is not much of a prize."

Aragorn sighed. "My lord, I fear I cannot tell you. This secret is not mine to share. Let it be enough that Gandalf has wished to speak with him for a long time. This creature has information which could be of vital importance to us all."

"It is unlike you Aragorn, to speak in such riddles. Very well, keep your secrets. But why bring him here?"  
"I was instructed to do so by Gandalf. He had hoped that should Gollum be found, he would be brought hither to be guarded."

Thranduil let out an annoyed huff. "Gandalf presumes a great deal! To tell me so little, Aragorn, and then to ask us to guard him! Is this all you can say to me?"

Aragorn paused in contemplation. "I do not think Gandalf would mind my saying this. May I approach your lordship and whisper it to you?"

Thranduil nodded and Aragorn stepped forward, bending to the king's ear. "Gandalf believes the One Ring may have been found." Drawing away, Aragorn again took his seat.

Thranduil's face dropped. "No," he whispered.

Gollum began to pull on his lead and moan.

"We know not for certain. That is why it is imperative that Gandalf speak with Gollum."

A hiss came from the dank, loathsome creature. "Leave, yess, my Precious," Gollum said, still tugging at the rope around his neck.

Thranduil sat and stared at the pitiful monster. "Very well, Aragorn. We shall hold him in our care."

"Thank you, my lord," Aragorn said, rising. Thranduil motioned and two Elven guards came and took the rope from Aragorn. Gollum grew fearful and let out horrible wails. He clawed at the floor with his strong fingers. The elves stood dismayed. Thranduil approached the frantic savage.

"Gollum, you will not be harmed. We hold you only for safekeeping."

Gollum, however, was not convinced. He writhed and tugged at his collar nearly choking himself. "Lets us go! Yess, Precious! _Gollum_!" The guards then dragged him away; his hysterical cries echoed through the great halls until at last all was again peaceful.

Thranduil turned again towards his guest. "Have you supped, Aragorn?"

"Nay, I have not."

Indeed? Well, you shall dine at our tables once more. Come! I shall have a room prepared."

Aragorn bathed in scented water and dressed in the fine robes provided for the company of the king. Long tables had been set under the fair night sky for their feast. Merrymaking was being made in his honor and the air permeated with sweet, Elven song. Yet, something troubled Aragorn that he could not fully grasp. Thranduil then joined him and they sat among his wise kindred.

Suddenly, Aragorn knew what was amiss. "Where are your sons, my lord? I had hoped to have the pleasure of their company as well."

"Alas, the battles of late have been great. Legolas was driven far from his kinsmen by the Orcs, and Tarnil, Galamed, and Haldof have gone in search of him."

"Aye, that is ill tiding indeed! Have you had no word since?"

Thranduil shook his head. "Nay, I fear not." They both looked over the fair faces of the Elves. They appeared merry, but a melancholy concern seemed to lie underneath their smiles. Aragorn's sharp eyes perceived this.

"I wish I could aid you in your search, Lord Thranduil, but I am long expected in Rivendell. Lord Elrond will also wish to know of Gollum's capture. I fear I must leave tomorrow."

Thranduil nodded in understanding.

"I shall keep my ear to the ground for news of Legolas and Haldof and help as I may. I shall also alert Lord Elrond of your situation."

"I can ask no more of you, my friend. But it has been good to see you. Your friendship has been of great comfort to me during this uncertain time."

Aragorn smiled. "I know not when Gandalf will hear news of Gollum, but when he does, he will surely come. Expect a visit."

Their attention was taken by a fair Elf-maiden who rose and sang. Her silvery, harmonious voice rose as others joined in her sweet, sad song. Tales and verse flowed far into the night of which Thranduil and Aragorn only half heard.

**Author's Note:** Please review!


	5. Chapter V The Sparring Tournament

**CHAPTER 5**

**THE SPARRING TOURNAMENT**

Morning came like a blissful tide, casting all Mithryn's glade with a warmth and light that streamed through her window and into her bedchamber. It was a tiny room, with an aged, wooden bed sitting against the far wall. A large stone fireplace was set upon the room's northernmost wall, with kindling neatly set beside it. A much worn, quaint old chair sat in front of the fire, which Mithryn enjoyed sitting in on cold, dark nights. Shelves filled the walls on both sides of the only window. They sat sadly bare, as Mithryn had few possessions. Some ancient books, there were, of which she could not read. The writing was strange and unknown to her. She kept them all the same and glanced through them from time to time. Her most treasured possessions of all sat upon those shelves. There was a broken lantern, a tattered doll, a wooden pipe, and a magnificent sword, all of which came from her life before, and were now the only physical remnants that it had ever existed. Over her bed hung various dried flowers which added colour to the overall drab room.

Mithryn woke and, remembering her guest, dressed quickly. She was preparing breakfast when he stepped out from the forest and approached the cottage. Legolas walked in, his mind and body now cheerful and refreshed. He sat at the old, oak table and smiled at her. "Good morrow, good Mithryn!"

"Good morrow, Legolas. You are well rested?" she asked.

"Much. I love it here. It feels like the Greenwood of my youth, before the Shadow came.

She smiled and served a breakfast of fresh gathered berries, hot biscuits, and herbal tea. "I have told you much of my life here; I wish you would now tell me of yours."

His thoughts drifted for a moment before replying. "How is one to put into words all that one has seen through the passing ages?" His eyes grew distressed. "I have lived nearly three thousand years in this wood."

"And I am but a child of ninety. Do I seem like a child to you?"

Legolas smiled. "In some ways, yes. In others..." He shook his head. "No. You seem wise beyond your years. There is more to you than what the eye can see."

"Even Elven eyes?"

A smile spread onto his lips. "Yes."

When breakfast was complete, they sat neath the weeping willow beside the glistening pond. Legolas was content, yet a stone still lay buried in his heart. Mithryn sensed his sorrow. "You are troubled. Can you not cast it off and have peace? What is it that plagues your mind so?"

"The Age of my people is waning. Our time here is coming to an end. More and more sail forth, never to return. I am grieved for my heart still lies hither; I do not wish to go."

"But this departure is not for some time, is it not?"

"To Elves it is very near. How many more years shall we live under our ancient, familiar boughs? As you have said, a hundred years to an elf is but a day. The hour draws nigh. All is coming to an end."

Mithryn gently touched his hand resting on the grass. "Think of it no more, for there is naught you can do. The future is mystery that none can fully see. Heed my words; I know." Legolas's affliction, however, could not be cast down. Mithryn tried once more. "Would you care to go for a walk? I have someone for you to meet," She said, eyes twinkling.

"Someone for me to meet?"

Mithryn nodded and they strode southward into the forest. To their right the cliffs towered, and to their left flowed rolling hills of endless trees. A spirited breeze blew about them and played with their hair. Upon walking farther into the wood, Legolas could see another vale upon which the sun streamed down like a giant fountain. On this dale, soft clover grew and its purple flowers sweetened the warm air. Prancing about merrily was a strong mare. Her sienna coat shone as she neighed and trotted over to Mithryn. The horse rested her massive head on Mithryn's sloped shoulder.

"Oh, you coy thing!" Mithryn teased. "Legolas, this is Anfalas."

Legolas touched the horse gently down her neck with his fingertips while he whispered elvish words softly in her right ear. She reared her immense head and gazed at him with her large brown eyes. "She is a beauty," Legolas said. "How did you acquire her?"

"Eight years ago I was wandering through the wood when I came upon her. She was naught but skin and bones, and past weary. With loving care, she is now restored. Although free to come and go as she pleases, she has stayed with me hence. She has been a great companion for me."

"She is a horse from Rohan. There they breed the mightiest steeds in all Middle Earth."

Legolas and Mithryn rested in the sunny spot, as did Anfalas who nudged Mithryn's back lovingly with her muzzle. Birds chirped and happily joined them.

"You asked if I am a witch." Mithryn stated. Legolas gazed at her, not wishing to press for answers.  
"The truth is," she continued, "I know not what I am. The magic, if magic it is, has been with me for as long as I can remember. I recall when I was a child my father comforting me after having nightmarish dreams. At least, they began as dreams, and came to me at night. Now these...visions...can strike at any moment."  
"Of what do you see?"

"I see...distant lands. I see people in pain. I see danger. I see torment. I see death." She paused and lingered in thought. "Through the years, I have mastered my ability to discern when these events are to take place. When the vision comes upon me, the greater the pain, the nearer the event is in the future. Little pain, it shall not happen for perhaps decades."

"And you foresaw my coming?"

"Aye. A vision came to me four days past. The pain was great. I saw you attacked by a band of orcs and separated from your party. I also foresaw you sitting here, with me. But the future is alterable, and one seemingly minor event can change the course for all. I was worried as to whether you would arrive safely."  
"Are you greatly tormented by the things which you have seen?" he asked, concerned.

"The greatest torment is to know, and have naught to send in aid. I have lived long in seclusion and hiding." She paused; her face grew pink. "In truth, I am ashamed. I have ignored what I have seen, pretending there was nothing I could do. That is, of course, a lie. I could have aided to their plight. I should have gone, but have not. That is something that has haunted me. Yet, I am afraid."

Legolas could feel her grief. He felt anguish himself. A tear rolled down her face. He placed a gentle finger on her soft cheek, wiping away the salty tear. He could find no words. His quiet strength eased her cares and stopped her tears. She smiled.

Two days passed, and Legolas remained. Mithryn wondered at this, but said nothing. She felt easy in his company and perceived a curious sensation when he was near. Legolas pondered at his extended stay as well. He knew his kinsfolk would worry about his welfare, but felt drawn to stay near Mithryn. He found that when he woke at dawn, his first thoughts flew towards her. "She has a smile," he thought, "that eases sorrow merely upon its arrival. I feel strong when she is near, yet my soul seems to tremble. What spell has she cast over me?"

With the passing days, they had taken to enjoying luncheon at the summit of Hallathúle. When finished his cheese and buttered rolls, Legolas said, "You never told me how you guard your realm so well."

A mischievous smile crept onto her face. "Ah. The fire."

"Yes. How do you do it?"

"At first, I was greatly troubled by the Orcs here about. They could sense my presence. It was some time before I contemplated fighting them back with the very thing they could never understand."

"What?"

"Love. I cast a living, breathing...spell, I guess you could call it. I poured all the love in my heart into it. The love of my kinfolk, my mother, my father, my new home here, the trees, the birds, everything. And through my love, comes a great passion to protect it. The power is emanating through me. That is why none of evil heart may enter. They cannot bear to feel love."

Legolas understood that very well. He carried the same passion for protecting his home and his people. "Does it not fatigue you?"

"Only when I excessively use other magic."

"What other magic?"

The impish grin reappeared. "Oh, sometimes I'll meet an Orc on my way to or from the Woodland Folk. Afterward, they are very sorry they ever crossed paths with me. I know I do not look like much, but they soon discover otherwise."

"Will you show me?"

"How?" she asked, eyes dancing playfully.

"We can spar. Have you a blade?"

"I do."

"My blade against yours."

A merry laugh escaped her. "Very well."

And so the sparring tournament began beside her home. They would combat to judge skill. Legolas brought forth his weapons, which for the past few days had been left neglected by the door. He withdrew his knife. The sharp edge sparkled in the sunlight.

Mithryn also fetched her blade. The sword was stout but the proper size for Mithryn's physique. Legolas immediately recognized the craftsmanship of his people. "May I see it?"

She handed it to him. Legolas held the glittering weapon, eyes sparkling. It's handle shone of mithril; its three tips of the hilt curled as a flame. "I call her Gilóre," Mithryn said.

Legolas smiled. "Starheart. It is Elven made," he said, studying it closely.

"I thought as much."

"Where did you find this?"

"My father brought it back for me from one of his adventures. He always said to keep it hidden out of sight, neath the floor. I am very thankful those horrid orcs did not find it when our village was attacked."  
Delicate, flowing Elvish script was written across the hilt. Legolas ran his fingers over the cold, mithril letters. "It is old, of the second age.""Can you read the words? I have never been able to," she said.  
"It reads: 'Behold the Flame of Truth.' It is exquisite!"

Legolas handed it back to Mithryn. When placed in her small, white hand, a warm glow began to protrude from the blade. It burst into a golden flame which projected outwards as if the sword itself were on fire. Legolas gazed at its magnificence.

"Behold the Flame of Truth," he said, eyes enchanted.

"Shall we begin?" Mithryn asked. Legolas nodded his reply.

Swords raised, the dual began. Mithryn swung first with a flash of fire, and a clash of metal. Legolas struck next. Mithryn thought his movements slow, calculated. She suspected that he was restraining great strength and speed. Her eyes sparkled and the dance of flame continued. Her amusement did not go unnoticed.  
"Your skill is admirable," he said while wheeling his blade about. "And yet, I suspect you are holding back. Is it true?"

Mithryn's eyes danced. "Yes," she said, laughing. "And you?"

"Yes," he said, and both let their blades fall to their sides in resolution. Mithryn placed Gilóre back in her sheath, and the fire extinguished.

"And what of your magic? Will you not show me?" enquired Legolas as he returned his knife to its casing.  
"It is too dangerous to use on you, but I will show you some if you wish." She placed Gilóre on the ground in front him. Mithryn walked a distance back and raised her right hand and in a flash, the sword flew from the ground and into Legolas's hand. She smiled, now feeling slightly embarrassed. "It is not much."  
"Nay, that was excellent! What else?"

"Well..." She again held out her right hand and the sword was suddenly wrenched out of Legolas's grip and flew into her clutch.

Legolas approached her and smiled. "Splendid."

Mithryn smiled back. "But that which causes most fear in orcs," she said, "is this." She clenched her small, right hand into a tight fist. She then blew on it and slowly opened her hand. There sat a golden ball of flame.  
"Does it not burn?"

"If I were to release it, it would." She blew on it again and the flame went out. She stretched out her hand again, and his weapon's case sailed from the earth into her tiny hand. "Now, a bow and arrow, I have never used. Is it difficult?"

Legolas took the case, withdrew his bow and stepped close beside her. "No. I will teach you. Grasp the bow handle tightly."

She did as he commanded. "Like this?"

"Yes. Now, hold the arrow securely. That is correct. Now, pull the string back as far as you can and release."

She grasped the bow, pulled back the string and let the arrow go. It flew to the ground two feet from where she stood and missed her aim (which was the door) by twenty feet.

"If I could use magic, I'm sure it would reach the door," she said lightheartedly.

"No, no," he said, amused. "There is no magic when using a bow and arrow. Only skill."

He drew up close behind her; his left hand gently atop of hers, while holding the bow in place. She could feel the heat of his arm beside hers. His strong chest pressed lightly against her back; his warm breath caressed her exposed neck. She dared not move, else he would as well. Her heart began to pound in her chest; "Can he hear it?" she wondered. With his right hand, Legolas took another arrow and laid it across the bow. With masterful skill, he pulled tight and let the arrow fly. It wedged itself deep in the wood of the door.

Mithryn smiled at his skill, and turned and looked back at him. Their eyes met. Legolas then realized his arms were around her. He felt he should move away, but could not. Mithryn's smile faded. Legolas slowly bent his head down and kissed her.

The love for which an Elf feels for the first and only time cannot be measured or expressed adequately in words. Elven hearts are never capricious or inconstant. Once their heart is given, there is no return. There is no other.

Their lips softly touched, only to evoke the want of another kiss. Legolas drew her close. His bow fell lightly to the ground. When at last their lips separated, she rested her dizzy head on his muscular chest; their arms tightly wrapped around one another. For her too, there could be no other.

They sat in silence a long time that evening. Mithryn knew he would have to leave soon. Indeed, he had lingered long already. She had no illusions; he might never be permitted to return. Legolas's thoughts were also bent upon his imminent departure. A shadow of sorrow cast itself over his heart. "I must leave tomorrow," he said finally, breaking the silence.

Mithryn looked at him with saddened eyes. She nodded. She could not deny him his duties. He reached across the table and gently held her hands. His touch was soft, warm, and electrifying. His face melancholy, yet hopeful. It brought some peace to her saddened heart.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter VI Riddles in the Dark

**CHAPTER 6**

**RIDDLES IN THE DARK**

It was true that none were to blame for Legolas's disappearance save the orcs. None were to blame, yet Haldof blamed himself entirely. Through the passing days and nights, alone in the wilderness, his memories consumed him.

He remembered his own words vividly. "We should attack now and charge at them with full force." He also recalled Legolas's cautionary reply. "Nay, that would be leaving our backs to the enemy. They could flank us."

Haldof shook his head. "I asked him to trust me, and I betrayed that. What have I done?"

He had returned to the scene of their battle and discovered that the surviving Orcs had scattered and spread in large groups. At first, he knew not which to follow and, therefore, chose randomly. When realizing his error, he was forced to track a new band which led him nowhere again. Despair had begun to set in.

Yet, upon the fifth night following the battle, a first glimmer of hope broke its way in through the murky gloom that had fallen over Haldof. He had been resting in the high branches of a tree when the distinct sound of horse hoofs could be heard approaching from the north. He slid silently down the trunk and stood on the lowest branch which afforded the best concealment. Peering out, he saw two white Elven ponies approach with fair Elven riders. It was Tarnil and Galamed. Haldof smiled and his grief lessened. He had not expected to see his two brothers so soon.

The horses stopped under the tree. Galamed dismounted and surveyed the ground. "Orcs have been this way some days past. Alas, I know not if either Haldof or Legolas were amongst them."  
Tarnil merely shook his head in disappointment. "We should have followed the other Orc trail."

Suddenly, Galamed felt a rush of wind from behind. Tarnil and he reacted quickly, arming their weapons, only to see Haldof standing beside the trunk of the tree.

"Haldof!" Galamed was quick to embrace him. Tarnil leapt off his steed and joined them.

"We feared we would not find you," Tarnil added when they finally separated.

"I presume it is too much to hope that Legolas is here?" asked Galamed.

Haldof's face grew melancholy once more. "Sadly, it is." He told them of his futile efforts to find their brother.

Tarnil nodded. "The Orcs have been busy, we have seen. They disbursed far and wide. It is good fortune indeed we have met, thus. I fear for Legolas, however."

"Have you been following this Orc trail?" Galamed asked as he knelt once more to the disturbed earth, searching for the faintest sign of Legolas.

"Since yesterday's morn," replied Haldof.

Tarnil was eager to step in. "Have you reason to believe that Legolas went this way?"

Haldof's gaze lowered and avoided their eyes. "Nay. Truth be told, I have found no evidence of him being taken or slain. Had he escaped, I believe he would have masked his trail as best he could." He sighed. "I have neither seen nor heard anything that would give me hope to believe that he is still safe."

Tarnil and Galamed were pained at his words. Tarnil was the first to recover from the onslaught of sinking discouragement. He placed a strong hand on his brother's shoulder. "You have borne this pain alone, Haldof, but no more! Hope is not yet lost. Eventide is upon us, therefore, let us resume our search tomorrow."

Haldof gazed at him and smiled. "He is much like Father," he mused to himself. The smile quickly faded. "Father! How did he bear this ill news?" he asked.

"Not well," Galamed said. "He worries much, as do all our kin."

Haldof's eyes grew dark; guilt made them so. He feared his father's blame for his most serious ill judgement.

They slept on the ground near the horses under the shroud of trees and brush. Throughout the night they each took turns with a watch. Haldof was much heartened by his brothers' glad company.

Three days passed, and they grew ever more frustrated. The thick, stuffy air bothered them greatly. Trails proved fruitless, and they felt ever more daunted, wandering and tracking with no results to aid them. Haldof, who was the most skilled at tracking, remained on foot as Tarnil and Galamed rode.

It was midday, and Tarnil and Haldof were pondering over some Orc tracks when Galamed's cry called them. "Brothers! Come hither!"

Tarnil and Haldof sprinted to where their brother stood. On the ground lay three dead Wargs and a decapitated Orc. The Wargs had each been shot with Elven arrows. A foul, decomposing stench polluted the air. Galamed's face filled with woe. This evidence did not bode well for Legolas. Haldof sank to the ground in horrified resignation; his long, lean body folded up in sorrow. Tarnil was the only one to keep a clear head. He placed his sleeve over his nose and leaned over the bodies, eying them carefully. "They appear to be dead at least three days. All is not yet lost."

Haldof gazed up at him with pity. "You really believe so, Brother? I fear you dream."

"His body is not here! He may be alive yet!" Tarnil's faith in Legolas's return was not yet lost.

"Need I remind you what cursed things Orcs do to the bodies of our taken, Brother? You know of what I speak. Three days passed...he was hunted by Orcs and Wargs. I fear you think him alive merely because you wish to."

Tarnil's face grimaced. "I cannot believe the worst, Haldof. It is simply too terrible."

A silence fell. Galamed, who had surrendered into muted contemplation, at last spoke. "What then are we to do? If dead he is, it is unlikely his body shall ever be found."

"I say we return to our father," Haldof said, resolutely.

"You would abandon him?" asked Tarnil.

"Nay, we must merely accept the inevitable. How many that are taken return to us? We have searched every trail and found nothing. If he was captured and is alive, surely he would have left us some shred of hope along his path. I do not believe he is lost because I wish to, Tarnil. I simply state what my heart tells me."

Tarnil shook his head; his eyes began to fill with tears.

Galamed again spoke. "So, what are we to do?"

King Thranduil passed the days in contemplative thought. Aragorn, his friend, had left and another had come in his stead. Gandalf the Grey, of whom the elves call Mithrandir, arrived having heard news of Gollum's capture from Lórien. He grieved at the news of Thranduil's woe, but imperative concerns and responsibilities could not be ignored. He quickly set to work questioning the captive. Long hours passed wearily in the deep, dark cell. It was on such a day that Gandalf prodded and pestered the prisoner for answers to his riddles, yet again.

"I do not believe you, Gollum! I want you to now speak the truth!" Gandalf's voice was stern and commanding, while pacing the dank cell.

Gollum squatted in his corner, muttering and cursing under his foul breath. "It doesn't know nothing, precious," he spit. "Precious was a birthday present to us, it was, _gollum_."

"A birthday present?" asked Gandalf, skeptical of this new crumb of information. "From whom? Who gave you this birthday present?"

"Granny gaves it to us, she did. Yesss."

Galdalf let out a loud huff and stood, towering over the cowering Gollum. "I grow weary of your tall tales!" Gandalf held his staff and from its tip glowed a bright, white light.

Gollum wailed and cried, cursed and trembled with fury. "It's cruel!" he sobbed as Galdalf's radiant light went out. "It's cruel to us!"

"Now, Gollum, you shall tell me where you found the precious, else I light my staff again."

"No!" Gollum wailed, bony hands tugging at Galdalf's great robes. "We founds it, we did, precious."

"Where? Where did you find it?"

**"_Gollums"_** escaped the creature but he refused to answer Gandalf's question. He rubbed his long hands, licking his fingers. "Cruel, it iss. _**Gollum**_. It is my own, my preciouss."

Gandalf's rod was quickly relit. Gollum let out more hateful cries. Galdalf, however, was resolute. "Tell me, Gollum! Where did you find the precious?!"

Gollum desperately tried to cover his large eyes from the blinding light, but to no avail. "It burns us, it does! Turns off the light and we tells it!"

"I think not. You tell me, and then the light shall go out."

Gollum let out more resentful howls, before saying: "In the river we founds it."

"River? Which river?" Gandalf demanded. No reply did Gollum give except for the mutters and whimpers. "Which river, Gollum, or my light shall grow brighter!"

"Nooo! By the Gladden Fieldses, we founds it. It burns usss!"

Gandalf stood shocked, and the light faded until all was again somber. Gollum crawled to the darkest corner and licked his fingers. Gandalf closed and locked the door, then made his way out of the dungeons. Echoing **"_gollums_"** could be heard resounding through the halls.

Gandalf sat with the king in his private study, and they ate by the crackling fire. Candles flickered, and a servant placed his silver tray silently upon the table, and quietly slipped out.

"Gollum is an repulsive beast, and yet, I pity him," Thranduil said.

"I, too, pity him; but, alas, I fear he can still do much damage. His heart is black with hate," Gandalf replied, after drinking some wine.

"Do you truly believe he held the One Ring for all those years?"

"I know not for certain. If he speaks the truth of where he found it, it is possible. Isildur met his fate in the Gladden Fields. It is possible." Gandalf sighed. "I have yet to uncover what mischievous deeds he was up to, however." He began to smoke his long pipe.

"You speak of where Aragorn found him, I assume...the Dead Marshes," and Thranduil shook his head. "It does not bode well, Mithrandir. You know what lies near that land. If it was, indeed, the One Ring he carried, then that is dangerous power for a mischief-maker."

"Alas, I fear you are correct."

"You believe him tortured by the Enemy?"

"I do," Gandalf said, eyes staring at the dying embers on the hearth.

"And what do you think he told them?"

Gandalf took deep breaths from his pipe, letting the smoke cloud and disburse. "Everything," he said at last.

The following day, Gandalf attempted once more to fill in the missing pieces to the puzzle that Gollum held secret. Gollum was not happy to see the wizard once more. Upon the door opening, he let out multiple mutters and curses.

"It should leaves us alone, yesss, precious. We have told it lots and lots!"

Gandalf, however, felt that he would be best to judge that. He sat in his chair in the doorway, staff in hand. Gollum knelt on the floor, rubbing his hands, many a **"_gollum_"** in his throat.

"Now, Gollum, what happened in the Misty Mountains?"

"Orcses lives in the mountains, yess, precious. Many nasty Goblinses."

"Now, you know I am not referring to the Orcs. Tell me of the name Baggins."

That name sent Gollum into a wild fury. "Curse it! Curse it! _Gollum!_" He sat and rocked back and forth, muttering curses under his breath, but did not answer.

"Gollum, you will tell me," Gandalf said sternly. Gollum, however, ignored him and would not answer. "Do you wish to feel the light of my staff again?" Gandalf warned, firmly grasping the handle.

"No, we doesn't! Curse it! My preciouss! Cruel, cruel it is!"  
"Cruel I shall be unless your riddles cease!" Gandalf said. "Now, tell me of the name Baggins."

"Thieving, sneaking cheats it did. Yes, my precious. Curse it!"

"How did Baggins cheat you?"

"We plays a game, we did, and it cheatses! It stole my precious, **_gollum!_"**

"Game? What sort of game?"

"We played riddles, we did, and it cheatses! What has it got in its pocketses? It wouldn't say, no precious. Little cheat. Not a fair question. It cheated first, it did. It broke the rules. We ought to have squeezed it, yes precious. And we will, precious!"

Gandalf sat, dismayed. Bilbo's tale was now confirmed. Gandalf's greatest fear was taking form. "Gollum, what were you doing in The Dead Marshes?"

Gollum, however, did not appear to hear him. He muttered to himself, rubbing his hands together. "Baggins will pay, yes, my preciousss. It will pay for its trickses, **_gollum!_"**

Galdalf repeated his question, but Gollum ignored him still.

"We now has friends, we does. We will teach the dirty thief some thingses, precious. We do have good and strong friends now, _**gollum!**_ They will teach the dirty little Baggins a thing or two, my preciousss."

Gandalf merely sat in awe and could only guess to what depth Gollum's treachery sank. His heart wept for the miserable wretch, but was ever aware of how strong and dangerous he still was. There was no limit to the creature's sinister ambitions where his Precious was concerned, and Galdalf knew it.

Thranduil stood under starlight. A half moon hung lazily in the sky while crickets hummed their nightly tune. Gandalf was admitted to the king's presence to bid his farewell.

"I am grieved to see you leave, old friend," Thranduil said.

"As am I to depart, yet, necessity commands it."

"Where does necessity call you, Mithrandir?"

"Gollum's riddles do not satisfy me. I require further proof. I am off to Minas Tirith where, with hope, some answers may be gained," Gandalf said as a comely Elf-maiden brought forth his steed. "I have hope yet, that should my fears prove true, with time, a cure may be found for him. I look to your wise judgement in keeping him now, King Thranduil."

"Worry not, as we shall take great care. Fare thee well, Mithrandir! May you find the answers which you seek."

"Thank you, King Thranduil." He gazed deeply into the crystal blue eyes of the mighty elven king. His voice then fell soft and warm. "Do not mourn Legolas, yet. I feel in my heart he is not as lost as you fear."

Thranduil nodded, but alas, he did not feel it in his own sad heart. Gandalf then mounted his horse and galloped swiftly into the shadowy night. Thranduil stepped onto the lattice-laced bridge and listened to the soft murmur of the gentle river. He was about to return to his halls when the sound of hooves fast approaching caught his attention. His first thought was that his guest had returned, but as the sound grew, Thranduil saw his three sons riding forth. Tarnil and Galamed shared a pony, while Haldof rode alone on the other. Yet, nowhere was Legolas to be seen. The king's face fell. The horses stopped, and the Princes dismounted. They stood before their father and king, defeated, for Legolas had not been discovered and was now believed to be irretrievably lost. The truth of this was felt by examining their worn faces. Thranduil merely bowed his head, turned, and entered his barren great hall.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter VII Blood and Blades

**CHAPTER 7**

**BLOOD AND BLADES**

A new dawn rose behind the majestic Hallathúle, and Legolas readied himself for his trek back to his family. Mithryn brought forth his weapons as well as a green sack which held fresh provisions, enough to last him his journey home. Securing the sack over his shoulder, he next slipped his arm through his harness and Mithryn adoringly fastened the glistening silver buckle on his chest. Gazing up at him, she reached up on her toes and kissed him.

They held hands as they walked to her easternmost boundary, but no words were said. Grief was foremost on their minds and faces. When at last the boundary was reached, Legolas took both her hands with his. She smiled softly into his pensive face; she had surrendered to the fact that fate was not their ally, and it shattered all her hopes.

"I shall return within a month's time," he said with surety.

Mithryn merely smiled and nodded. She had no doubt of his sincerely or honest heart, but did not believe his father would allow him to return. Legolas leaned in close and kissed her gently. Sensing her breaking heart, he held her close, securely, wishing time would cease and be still so that they could have this moment forever. With desperation, she fought to control her tears, but to no avail. Her head rested on his chest; she could hear his heart beat from within.

He placed his loving hands on her head, and tilted it upwards until her eyes met his gaze. His face was serious; his eyes sharp and unyielding. "I have never known how to use eloquent words. I know not how to adequately express all that is in my heart." His eyes rose to the sky, searching for the right words buried deep. "You are my only love. Know that, for me, there shall never be another." A tear welled in his eye.

Mithryn's whole soul leaped, soared, and was crushed all in the same moment. Her only reply was: "Nor could there ever be another for me."

They held each other tightly a long while until finally, no more time could be spared. He at last pulled away and reluctantly stepped once again in to the dark, murky land. He steadily moved east, glancing back now and then to see her standing in warmth and light, until at last, she could be seen no more. A mournful shadow fell over him.

It was a lonely walk back for Mithryn. Her cottage seemed now sadly desolate to her. Sitting by the sparkling pond, she hummed the ancient tune of Lúthien Tinúviel, but it brought her little comfort. She had become accustomed to isolation and had passed the long years merrily enough, but there was now a hole in her soul to which Legolas was the only cure. She longed for company. Anfalas, perceiving her lady's sorrowful heart, trotted to her and affectionately nudged Mithryn's head with her muzzle.

"How did you know, dearest?" Mithryn said, as she reached back and stroked Anfalas' long face.

The great sun once again made its descent in the west. Mithryn's face, however, was irresistibly drawn eastward as if to a greater sun, as she stood on the peak of Hallathúle. She wondered if he, at times, turned and gazed west and thought of her.

A chill was in the air that night. She lit a fire in her bedchamber and curled up in her great, cozy chair. Thinking it best to keep her hands and mind busy, she mended worn table linen. Try as she might, she could not banish Legolas from her thoughts. He was so near, yet, so distant. Thinking of what would never come to be, burned her very soul.

Without warning, a searing pain began to grow in her temple and quickly spread across her brain. Her hands abandoned the sewing and cradled her throbbing head. The seething pain ripped through her skull like a knife. She cried out, and then the vision came. Mithryn's eyes flashed open and the pain died away. The room, however, turned about her in great whirls. "Legolas," she whispered. She ran to the door and gazed out into the moonless night.

Legolas had felt them all day, the Orcs; they were close. When the sun set, he decided it best not to halt for rest. He would have a head start, and if he journeyed all the next day, with luck, he would reach the forest edge by the morrow's nightfall.

The Orcs, however, had a plan of their own. They had set up camp near the witch's lair, and many were scattered hesitantly close to the boundary, watching, waiting for the Elf's departure. He'd have distance between them, oh yes, and they'd have a good job finding him too, sneaky Elf. But Ugnúl did not worry much. He knew he and the Elf would again meet.

"This is idiocy, Ugnúl!" said Lâsh, the three fingered Orc.

"He cannot linger long," replied Ugnúl. "We will wait."

"No, you will wait! We have tired of this fruitless hunt. The rest of us are..."

But the great beast could not finish his sentence. Ugnúl was on him in a flash, his sword pressed against Lâsh's throat. Ugnúl smiled and slowly pulled the stained blade; it cut slightly and black filth oozed out. Lâsh winced in pain; the two Orcs glared at each other.

"We wait," Ugnúl said at last.

Legolas's eyes were alert in the dark depths of the forest. An Orc arrow whizzed past his head, narrowly missing his ear. He returned fire with his own arrows, but failed to see precisely where his enemies were. His Elven War-Masters had trained him to return blind fire at precisely the same angle; the great roar of pain told him he had hit his mark. Legolas knew that escape would be difficult. They would not let him slip through their fingers a second time.

With speed and might, the Orcs made a wide circle, surrounding him. He drew his knife and made the attack. Three Orcs were quickly slain, and yet, the gap filled in. Five, six, seven had he killed, but the circle drew tighter until Ugnúl stepped out. His eyes glared with evil redemption as he brandished his foul sword and charged. "This I have long waited for," Ugnúl spat. "This sport you have long denied me, but no more, you slippery worm. Your time has come."

The Orc charged hard. Legolas ducked, wielded his own blade over his head, slicing Ugnúl across the arm; he did not falter, but swung hard and brutal, metal clashing against metal. A hardened elbow sent Legolas stumbling backward, narrowly missing a fatal stab of Ugnúl's sword. The other Orcs hung back, maintaining the ring; they knew better than to disturb Ugnúl's fun. Legolas darted about, but could not escape a lunge and blow of Ugnúl's massive body. He was knocked to the ground hard and Ugnúl's blade met Legolas's flesh, slicing open his right side. Ugnúl stood back and let out a sinister laugh. Shaken, Legolas gazed down at the bloody gash, and a strange sensation came over him; his head felt unusually light and began to spin.

"Feel a wee bit odd, do you?" Ugnúl asked, maliciously. "Yes, that would be the poison. It does sting a bit, don't it?" The surrounding Orcs joined in the wicked snickering.

Legolas said naught, desperately trying to retain his strength and wits. He gripped his knife as tightly as he could in his weakening hand.

"Shall we kill the beast now, or watch it slowly die?" Ugnúl asked his rogues.

"No, killing him all the sooner would spoil our long expected sport!" an Orc replied. "I say we slice him some more." He smiled wickedly to reveal a blackened mouth with yellowed, rotting teeth.

"I loathe Elven eyes!" another called out. "They glow so brightly. Let us see if they grow brighter still when we remove them from their sockets."

Their hoarse laughter was interrupted when a celestial, white light broke swiftly through the severe darkness. They cowered back, shielding their eyes from the painful, glorious illumination. Legolas first thought death was upon him, only to realize he saw Mithryn riding Anfalas. A wreath of light danced about her, while aloft in her left hand she held Gilóre, burning with righteous fervor. The Orcs scattered and ran, shouting: "The witch! The witch has come!"

Mithryn stretched her right arm down to Legolas, and said: "You do not dream. Grab hold!" Legolas grasped her arm, and rose climbing on Anfalas, his knife still clenched in his hand.

"Haste, Anfalas!" Mithryn called and the noble horse shot out with swift response. As a steed of Rohan, her speed would have been faster, but for the trees. Ugnúl, in furious rage, followed the light at an accelerated run. Legolas's remaining strength seemed to deteriorate and he barely clung to Mithryn; his head, unable to be held up any longer, drooped and laid rest upon Mithryn's back. He was growing weaker by the moment.

They raced through the forest, but Ugnúl remained close behind. At last the boundary came and Anfalas leapt over it; she stopped to a halt on the other side. Mithryn turned Anfalas about, only to see Ugnúl standing there, seething in rage. Without a word, Mithryn whirled Anfalas about and headed for home.

The two miles were quickly passed and home was soon reached. Mithryn dismounted and helped the semi-conscious Legolas down from Anfalas. His feet touched the ground but his body fell lightly onto Mithryn; he could not hold himself up. His knife toppled to the ground with a thud. She led him into her bedchamber and laid him onto her bed. He appeared to already be in a disturbed sleep, eyes closed tightly; his blood gushed from the ugly wound in his side. Her hands shook with nervous concern.

"Think, Mithryn! Think!" she commanded herself. Then, without another moment's hesitation, using her gentle touch, she quickly removed his weapons harness; tossing it onto the floor. With unsure, trembling fingers, she unbuttoned his waistcoat to reveal his naked chest; it heaved up and down with great, hoarse breaths. She gingerly pulled down the sleeves while he tossed in uneasy sleep.

She stretched out her hand and the linen, which she had been mending, shot into her hand. She pressed it onto his wound; the white cloth darkening with his warm, red blood. The fire had gone out. With a wave of her hand, a log flew into the fireplace. In one fluid motion, she clenched her fist, blew upon it, opened it to reveal a golden ball of flame. With an easy throw, she tossed the fireball at the fireplace, and the log burst into flames.

She hurried outside, knelt by her herb garden, and swiftly looked over her various herbs before eying the one she wanted.

"Ah, Lady's Mantle!" She picked off several kidney shaped leaves and yellow blooms. Returning to her kitchen, she quickly rinsed off the cuttings, and, with her wooden rolling pin, crushed them into a pulp. Upon returning to Legolas she discovered the linen bandage quite soaked through with blood. She gently placed the herbal pulp on his wound. The kettle was soon boiled; she doused a fresh cloth into it, and let it cool a little before placing it firmly on his naked skin. She pulled her quilted blanked over him, and eyed him with loving concern. Several times during the night, she boiled more water, collected more Lady's Mantle, and changed his dressing, until at last, when he slept more peacefully, she submitted to weary sleep by the fire.

The morning sunlight peeked through her bedroom window and woke her. In a flash, she recalled all the night's events and rushed to Legolas's side. The night had not gone well for him. While the bleeding had ceased, his wound closed over and showed signs of festering under the flesh. Legolas's breaths now came in rasping gasps. She forcefully spoon-fed him one of her medicines that would clear his body of toxins. He still did not improve.

Bravely, Mithryn rose and fetched her small knife and a ceramic bowl. She felt the wound; it burned at the touch. Taking a deep breath, she held the bowl below the wound, and using the knife, cautiously sliced the injury back open. Legolas cried out and Mithryn, startled, dropped the knife. She laid her hand on his forehead, and with her other, gently squeezed the lacerate. Fetid, green ooze seeped out of the sliced flesh, and slowly trickled into the cold bowl. When none remained, she set the bowl aside. Taking another deep breath, she clenched her fist tightly, blew on it, and opened it to reveal, not a golden, but, a violet fire floating in her palm. With ease and ability, she turned her small hand over and applied it directly to the wound. With closed eyes, she used every ounce of power until, at last, she felt drained and exhausted. She tried to maintain her vigilance, but, finally succumbed on the edge of the bed and did not wake until well after the sun had set.

All was dark when at last her eyes opened. She hurried about, setting a fire, then checking on her patient. He was sleeping well; his breathing had returned to normal, the wound closed properly, and showed no signs of sepsis. She arranged his blankets with an eye to his comfort, then cheerfully prepared a herbal broth for when he would wake.

It was not until the next morning that Legolas's eyes finally opened. Confusion clouded his mind until, at last, he saw his love's friendly, smiling face. He tried to rise up, but, unable to, fell back as he was very weak.

"I do not think you ready to rise yet, Legolas," Mithryn said lovingly, as she sat next to him on the bed.

He urged her to tell him all until finally, she relented. Upon hearing the entire tale, he sat back in profound, concentrated thought.

"Legolas, what troubles you?" she inquired.

Legolas sighed. "I would not wish you in harms way. It was too dangerous. You ought not have attempted it for my sake."

"I could not refuse what I saw, nor what I felt. If you knew me to be in danger, would you come to my aid?"

Legolas gazed up at her. "In a moment."

"Precisely. Therefore, you cannot reproach me for having done as much. For what life would I have now, without you?" He smiled, and gave up his argument, for he knew, in his present state, he could not win. She cradled his weak hand tenderly in hers.

The next few days passed, and with them, Legolas grew stronger. He could walk with her aid, but then, only slowly and with great care. Of his wound, only that of a thin scar, nearly four inches long, remained; Mithryn believed it would not fade with the passing ages. The wound itself, however, had completely healed. Legolas was now suffering merely the pain of poison permeated in his blood stream, and of which, Mithryn was working to remove. Time, she was certain, would heal all.

In actuality, two weeks were needed until Legolas found himself fully mended. He had now been absent from his home for over a month. He was certain that he was sorely missed, and said as much one afternoon while atop Hallathúle. "They must worry greatly. It pains me to think of what they must be enduring. Yet, I am reluctant to leave you."

Mithryn bore all with a heavy heart. Every passing moment of the weeks she had been given, she had seen as a gift and she was thankful for the time they had together, even though she believed it to be their last. She would not let on how much she was tormented by his imminent parting. "Do not be grieved. I have long expected your departure. I look forward to your return," she smiled, though she did not believe it.

Legolas gazed at her strong face, but saw through her as though her resolute mask was but a pane of transparent glass. "You misunderstand me. I wish you to come with me to North Mirkwood. I cannot bear the thought of you here, so alone, any longer. Will you come with me?" he asked with timorous eyes.

Mithryn sat shocked. She had not expected such a reply. What did his words mean? Surely, they could not mean what she felt in her heart. She began to fear the time and kisses past had touched her heart, alone. Sudden panic streaked through her veins. "Do you think that wise?"

Legolas shifted, uncomfortably. A lump had suddenly appeared in his throat and refused to depart.

"I mean you no discomfort, Legolas. I merely wish to understand your intentions upon my arrival at your father's kingdom."

Legolas thought. Surely, it was a valid question, but he was embarrassed about giving the reply.

Mithryn noticed this, and spoke again. "I am not Elf-kind and, as an outsider, I fear I would be...unwelcome, despite being your friend."

"Friend?" Legolas whispered, mind reeling. He felt clumsy with words and feared her mockery. Yet, when his eyes met hers, he knew there was no mockery in her heart for him. "My intention towards you has been one and the same since I first realized I loved you. It is not friendship alone, I offer you. My intentions are honorable, for I wish us to wed."

Mithryn's heart danced in her chest, but was quickly quelled. He was, after all, an elf prince, and she a mortal. "But what of your father? Would he approve such a match for his eldest son, and the heir to his kingdom?"

"He is a wise man, and I hold great faith in his knowledge and beliefs. However, whatever his stand, this is one instance in which I will not be swayed."

Mithryn sighed, smiled, and nodded. He leaned in, wrapping his strong arms about her, pulling her close, and kissed her tenderly.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know if you like.


	8. Chapter VIII Northward and Homeward

**CHAPTER 8**

**NORTHWARD AND HOMEWARD**

Mithryn spent seventy-eight years in virtual seclusion. When the time for leaving had finally arrived, she found it considerably distressing. Her few long cherished possessions were carefully wrapped and stowed on the back of Anfalas. The cottage she would leave full with the furniture, bedding, and pottery which were of no need to her now. Her carefully nurtured gardens would have to survive on their own. Legolas waited patiently outside with Anfalas, not wishing to intrude on her goodbyes.

Mithryn stood in her bedchamber doorway gazing one last time on her past life knowing she would never look upon the room again. Before walking out, she placed a short note on the kitchen table for the next inhabitant the cottage may possess.

Legolas could see her pain. "Is there naught I can do?" he inquired, wishing to somehow lessen her remorse.

"Nay, time will heal all. We should depart, I think."

Thus, the journey began. Mithryn rode Anfalas while Legolas led on foot. The sun shone merrily, however, all the forested hills fell into despair. The trees shook and rustled, straining to beg and plead with all their rigid might; birds flooded the trees and chirped in a loud cacophony; woodland creatures peeped out of shrubs and holes, yet, Mithryn still rode on. Not that she couldn't feel their despondency. She wept silently with lowered head. As a Wood-elf, Legolas could sense all of nature's moods; he felt their love for Mithryn and how they lamented her departure. His heart wept as well, and continued to do so, until at last, the boundary was crossed.

Mithryn had neither strength of heart nor spirit to turn for one last glance. The light in her wood had gone out; her heart and love now lay elsewhere, thus, the spell was broken. It would never again be rekindled unless Mithryn returned, which the sad denizens now waited for with longing, but alas, she would never come again.

They followed the same route that Legolas had been taking ere the attack. The day passed quietly, yet, the pair was cautious. After some hours, Legolas and Mithryn rode together; the added weight was not burdensome for the strong horse. Mithryn wrapped her arms tenderly around his waist, anxious to be close and to shed off her heartache. Their spirits rose and felt free as Anfalas rode east. As the sun set, the forest again grew dark and gloomy. They halted for rest and fare; refreshing themselves with rosemary herb bread, cheese, and wine. Legolas felt Mithryn's fatigue. The breaking of the spell had drained her and her heart suffered greatly.

"Shall we tarry here for a night's rest, or do you wish to go on?" asked Legolas.

Mithryn was weary but reluctant to stop as savage orcs weighed heavily on her mind. Weeks had passed since Legolas's attack, and most likely the orcs had moved on to other sinister deeds. And yet, she felt uneasy. "Nay, we should not linger," and thus they continued their journey.

All soon grew black as pitch. Mithryn's head bobbed sleepily until eventually finding rest on Legolas's shoulder; he felt strangely honored and lovingly protective as Mithryn slept close, trusting him with her life. Though remaining alert and watchful during the night ride, no danger did he sense or see.

Mithryn's eyes opened to fresh air and sunshine warmth. She looked about and found herself laying in a large, grassy field with Anfalas grazing nearby. "Anfalas, where is Legolas?"

"I am here," said he.

Mithryn turned to see him standing in the sun; his hair, lit with golden fire, blowing gracefully in the wind. She smiled. "We have left the wood behind?"

"Aye, we have."

"When did we arrive here?"

"Dawn. I had not the heart to wake you, my love, knowing you to be forlorn upon leaving your home. I believed rest would help."

"It did, indeed," Mithryn confessed. "Yet, I would not have you believe that I am not pleased upon going to your home." Legolas smiled and grasped her tiny hand, helping her rise.

"There is no need to fret. Change, I find, is always bittersweet. The end of one thing, and the beginning of another. I share your woe, but hope to be part of your happiness."

"You are my happiness," she said adoringly, and he kissed her tenderly on her forehead. It struck her wondrous how life, so filled with uncertainty and pain, could produce at times such perfect happy moments.

The eastern border of Mirkwood had finally been crossed and they were now in the fields nearly fifty miles west of the Celduin River. Legolas knew that not all evil had been entirely put behind them merely by escaping the forest. After they had partaken of breakfast, they set out and rode onwards following the woodland skirt until the Celduin had at last been reached. The swift river splashed, flowing along merrily, and with it brought the flavoured scent of Thranduil's kingdom on a refreshing zephyr. Legolas's spirits strengthened; at last, home felt near!

A pale, languid moon rose in the sky as they rode along, darkness engulfing them. They were but a mile from the Old Forest Road and Legolas knew that they should not pass that way after nightfall. Camp was, therefore, set on the forest boundary under the veil of low hanging weeping willows laden with drooping leaves. A fire dared not be lit, yet, the night was unseasonably cool for the spring months. Legolas saw Mithryn shivering, each breath creating a hazy mist. After unstrapping the quilt from Anfalas, he cloaked it around him. "Come. We shall keep warm together," he said. She went to him, and they sat neath the swaying limbs of the mighty willow; he enveloped her in the soft blanket.

Mithryn snuggled in closely to his warm body. He smelt of fresh leaves and spring rainwater. She placed a gentle hand on his strong chest which rose and fell with every breath. Turning his head, he tenderly kissed her forehead while wrapping his powerful arms around her. Eyes closed, Mithryn slowly drifted away into blissful sleep, whilst Legolas's eyes and ears maintained guard throughout the night.

As the night grew quiet and still, he watched her in peaceful slumber. Her breathing grew long and slow, and arms rested gracefully around him. Her vermilion curls sprawled across his chest resting beside his own golden hair. With a curious hand, he picked up a curly strand, examining its spiraling nature and fiery colour. He marveled at how radiant and wondrous it was, even in the darkness of night. He gently replaced the lock and, with tender arms, held her lovingly close.

Before that night, he had never imagined such happiness existed. He never dreamed that the touch of another, a smile, a word, nay, a look, could bring the stars and the moon straight to his heart. And here she lay, wanting to be with him and no other, and all he could wish for was to be by her side for all eternity.

The loss of Northern Mirkwood's beloved prince and heir was felt intensely by its people. The return of King Thranduil's three sons brought some ease to their aching hearts but nothing could fill the void all felt. In the attempt to relieve their tortured minds of the loss of Legolas, Tarnil and Galamed turned their attention toward Haldof who suffered greatly.

"He punishes himself for Father will not," Tarnil said as he and Galamed spoke privately under branch and leaf deep in their forest realm.

"You feel he ought to be punished?" replied Galamed, astonished.

"Nay, I said not so. Yet, Haldof does. He will never forgive himself."

"I have tried speaking with him, yet, he would not let me near." Galamed sat on a large boulder covered in soft moss. A stream flowed beside it which fell in tiny waterfalls. Tarnil joined him.

"I know your worries, Brother, for I share them with you. You too feel Haldof falling into darkness and despair. He is much altered, as are we all. And yet, it is remorse that is Haldof's enemy. He withers like an ailing sapling and...I know not what is to be done."

"Father must speak to him," Galamed said, staring at the green forest floor. "Haldof has been avoiding his presence since our return and Father has done nothing. That is an error in judgment on Father's part, I believe."

Suddenly, a voice from behind the pair spoke and caught them both unaware. "I fear you are right."

Tarnil and Galamed promptly turned to see Thranduil regally dressed in long, emerald, velvet robes. Galamed's face quickly flushed as he recalled his last words.

Thranduil, however, was not vexed. "Do not regret your words, my son. They were spoken from the heart and for the love of your brother. Your concern is honorable."

The two sons gazed up, grateful for the guidance and solace from their father.

"It is true that I have neglected Haldof," the king continued. "I know this, and hearing your words put me in mind that enough time has been spent in isolation for us both. The heart does not grieve any less when friends and family are near, but the pain does seem easier to bear. He has been waiting for me and has fallen into shadow while anticipating my arrival. This was my fault, but he shall wait no longer. Are you comforted?"

Galamed and Tarnil rose and approached Thranduil. Their faces spoke of minds and hearts that were now eased as though a great weight had been lifted.

Upon his return from the search for Legolas, Haldof retreated to the only place that offered him any comfort. The eldest and most beloved tree in all of Mirkwood grew in the Elven realm, and they treasured it as they would an old, and dear friend. Belegaladh, they called it. For more than two thousand years Belegaladh grew with them, and many could recall the days of it being but a seed. Now the ancient tree stood; its massive bole and gnarled, tangled boughs displaying the time that had gone by, while all surrounding it retained the look of youth.

The four princes had not been boys when Belegaladh was a sapling. They were fully grown Elves and fierce warriors before the tree was sturdy enough to be climbed. Yet, as time passed and other trees gave birth and fell, Belegaladh remained and became cherished as only a tree could to the Elves. It was to this refuge that Haldof escaped. Many memories of Legolas and his brothers in Belegaladh's mighty, ancient boughs he carried with him.

Haldof had grown thin, for no sustenance would he take. He grew lonely, yet, none would he allow to come near. Exhausting grief haunted him. However, no solace could he find. He longed for release; he longed for death.

The king drew close, yet Haldof, consumed by inner turmoil, did not take notice. "How are you, my son?" asked Thranduil.

Haldof started and was torn from anguished thought. Seeing his father standing neath him, eyes grieved, Haldof turned away. "Leave me, Father. Just leave me."

"Nay, my son. I have, thus far, but neither you nor I shall be in solitude any longer." Thranduil waited for a reply, but none came. "Will you not speak to me?"

"I wish to be alone, Father. That is all that I ask."

"But I do not grant it."

Haldof let out an anguished sigh; his chin quivered. He did not know if he could bear what he knew his father was going to say.

"May I climb up?"

Haldof looked down, surprised. "You are king, Father. I cannot prevent you."

"Thank you," Thranduil said. He slightly lifted his robes and ascended higher and higher until at last he sat on a bough next to his son. "I have not been in Belegaladh's branches for some time. A few hundred years, I should think. I fear my robes are not meant for climbing."

Haldof said naught and would not look at him.

Thranduil shook his head thoughtfully. A serious veil covered his face once more. "My son, I must apologize. I should have come to you sooner. That was a misjudgment. I know how you must feel for the loss of Legolas. You are not alone in your feelings."

Haldof turned to his father, eyes burning with pain and torment. "If you mean to say that there are others who share in my guilt, you are mistaken! Tarnil and Galamed are blameless," he exclaimed, lashing out.

Thranduil sat aghast. "Guilt? What guilt is there to be felt? You searched long and wearily with no success. I do not blame you, my son, because your search was fruitless. How could I do so?"

Haldof's lips trembled. A tear escaped his eye. "It was I who ordered the attack on the camp. We were greatly outnumbered - Legolas knew it ought not be attempted, yet, I insisted I knew rightly! Cannot you see that it is my fault he is lost? Indeed, there is contrition to be felt, and I acknowledge it. There is blame, and my decision is the cause. It is because of me he is gone." Haldof dared not look at him. He prepared himself for the words that were to follow, now that his father knew all.

Thranduil sat grieved, his face growing weak. How very weary he felt. It was as if all the ages had come upon him in that very moment. How was he to bear the loss of a treasured son, and how was he to comfort another?

Haldof, desperately trying to contain the brokenhearted emotion swelling within him, had not prepared himself for silence. "Say something," he commanded.

"What is there to say? You knew not how the battle would end. Many of our greatest generals have made errors of strategy." He shook his bowed head. "Nay, my heart cannot blame you, son."

Haldof was not satisfied. He knew it to be his fault and none would change his mind. "How can you speak so? Legolas is dead, due to me, and yet you do not condemn me?! Whom do you blame, then?!" he said in exasperated rage.

Thranduil remained calm and took no heed of his son's truculent words. He knew Haldof had spoken out of excruciating woe. "It would be unwise to blame any but the cause for the battle. It is to them, I place the blame. None other."

Haldof shook his head; his heart screamed and would not be silenced. The guilt was a flame that could not be quenched. After some time in silence, he spoke, his voice eerily calm. "Father, I wish to leave. There is no comfort for me here now."

Thranduil's face turned, horrified. His own heart cried out. How could he bear the loss of another son? "Leave? But where would you go? To Rivendell?"

"Nay," Haldof replied, unemotionally. "I think not."

"The Grey Havens? Do you feel the call to Valinor?"

"Nay. I wish to travel, I think. I know not where." It was, of course, a lie. His mission was now clear. He would hunt down the Orcs who had slain his brother and kill them all. He cared not if his quest took him to Dol Guldur, or the Halls of Mandos. He quite deserved death, he thought.

Thranduil's mind was filled with panic. His next words came harsh and were spoken with the force of his supreme authority. "I do not grant you leave. This is an ill time for you to forsake us all. Our people look to us. They look to you. You cannot abandon them regardless of your grief."

"Father..." Haldof started, eerily calm.

"I forbid it!" Thranduil interrupted, voice resolute. After an uncomfortable moment, he softened, and grew regretful of his abrupt words. "I am sorry, Haldof. I know I cannot stop you. The decision is yours." He then rose, descended the tree, and strode off hastily to the now comfortless walls of his palace.

**Author's Note:** Please review.


	9. Chapter IX The Dead Returneth

**CHAPTER 9**

**THE DEAD RETURNETH**

Morning sun raised her bright face bringing freshness and warmth to the earth. Nathuil strolled nimbly along the elf path to the nearest border. As Captain of the Watch-guards, it was his responsibility to oversee all who patrolled the edge of their domain. To the untrained eye it would appear that he was simply heading deeper into the forest. Yet, high above, nestled in the brush of the trees, the Guards hid, ever vigilant and alert. Stopping at a tall beech, a ladder was suddenly dropped down and Nathuil climbed up sprightly. A hundred feet into the air he ascended before, at last, setting foot upon the talan. Two guards stood fast, eyes sharp as hawks, watching the outer forest. "You may go home now, Taranin," Nathuil said to one. "I shall finish your watch."

"Nay, I wish to stay. I have made no objection, Nathuil."

Nathuil smiled. "Your wife's time is near. I know she desires you to remain close. Will you not go to her? I believe she would be greatly comforted."

Taranin thought for a moment and then nodded. "Thank you, Nathuil." Taranin, with graceful ease, lowered himself down the rope-ladder. All remained quiet for some time as Andorian and Nathuil maintained a silent vigil.

"Ai!" Andorien whispered abruptly, eyes straining to see through the forest veil.

"Did you espy something?" breathed Nathuil.

Andorien peered long before raising his hand and pointing in the forward direction. "There."

The two Elves stared hard, bows loaded, struggling to discern the approaching danger. Suddenly, Nathuil started, bow falling to the floor of the talan, his face registering that of shock and denial. He momentarily closed his disbelieving eyes. "I dream," he said quietly to himself. "A! Elbereth Gilthoniel, please do not let this be an illusion..." He opened his eyes once more to see clearly again that which rode toward him. "Legolas!" he cried out with glorious surprise and happiness. The rider, on a chestnut mare, raised his head, gazed at the talan and smiled before lifting his hand high into the air in friendly greeting.

A merry laugh escaped the overjoyed Nathuil. "Andorien, quick! Sound the call! All in our kingdom must hear this!"

Andorien hastily grabbed the silver iavin with trembling hands. As he held the long, sparkling horn to his lips, he was so overcome with happiness, that he was quite at a loss as to what to do. "What call should I give?"

Nathuil was already almost halfway down the ladder. "The call of Returning Warriors!" Nathuil replied. "Let all know who has come at last!"

The high, clear note of the iavin resounded through the forest like a welcoming beacon for all who heard its good tidings. Elves throughout the realm ceased activities, stood still, and listened. Wonder filled their minds for it was not believed that any Elves were absent from home. Then, one by one, their thoughts turned toward Legolas. With haste and hopes high, they rushed to where the call sounded joining in the elven welcoming song even before knowing for whom it honoured.

Meanwhile, Nathuil jumped from the ladder when but a few feet remained. He broke into a run immediately and quickly reached the riders. Legolas halted Anfalas, dismounted sprightly, and ran forth to greet his lifelong friend. They met with embraces and merry laughter. Mithryn viewed all while still atop Anfalas, with heartwarming pleasure. It suddenly struck her how long it had been since she had known the joy of welcoming friends and this sense of belonging to a community, a family.

"Oh, Legolas!" Nathuil exclaimed. "You know not how you were missed! I thought my eyes deceived me, and yet, here you stand!"

A mirthful smile seemed permanently etched on Legolas's beaming face; his heart filled with joy. At long last, he was home! "You cannot know how it feels for me to stand here, Nathuil! It is now a dream come true!"

Elves arrived, all greeting him exuberantly with warm embraces and happy words. Song had erupted at first sight of him and angelic voices filled the wide wood with the sweet sound like bells on the wind. Mithryn marveled at how mellifluously and magically their words fell on her ears. Never before had music filled her heart so and brought such warmth that she thought the sun itself must be inside her chest.

Gradually Elves' attention turned from the hero returned to the curious looking mortal. They viewed her with distrust, for they knew her not, and made no movement toward her. They simply eyed her warily.

"Legolas?!" a surprised voice called out. Legolas turned to see none other than his youngest brothers, Tarnil and Galamed, standing in the clearing, straining to see around the crowd of Elves. A path was quickly made and the three brothers embraced each other with restored hearts. They leaned their heads inward, foreheads touching, arms firmly grasped on each other's shoulders. "I am dreaming," Tarnil exclaimed.

"Nay, Brother. You are awake," Legolas replied.

"Where have you been?" Galamed asked eagerly. "Are you injured?"

"What of the orcs?" Tarnil interrupted. "How did you escape?"

"All shall be explained in due course, I promise," replied Legolas.

"Son?" a quiet voice said.

Legolas turned to see his father standing with astonished eyes. Leaving his brothers, Legolas slowly stepped toward his father. All the wood fell into silence and only the soft creaking of the trees could be heard. "Hello, Father," was all he could say. Thranduil's chin trembled as he stared at his son, words failing him.

Legolas gazed at the ground, abashed, feeling that his father must be extremely angry with him. "I know you bade me to return soon..." but his sentence could not be completed as Thranduil's arms immediately outstretched and pulled his son close to him in a blissful embrace. This gesture of acceptance, forgiveness, and joy by his father, touched Legolas to the depths of his heart. The assembly erupted in glorious cheer.

But before they separated, Thranduil held his fair son by the shoulders, stared into his blue eyes and said quietly: "You have a great deal of explaining to do, son."

A laugh escaped Legolas. "Aye, Father, I know it. Much is there to say."

Thranduil's face broke into smile as well. "Then come! We shall go to my quarters as I wish to know all. A lot has happened in your absence which you must hear as well." Thranduil motioned for his sons to return to the palace but Legolas did not move. A shy, mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Father, I have someone for you to meet."

"Someone for me to meet?" the king repeated in amazement. Legolas strode back through the crowd toward Mithryn who had been watching all. The whole company gazed at the pair with speculation. Legolas stood at Anfalas's side and, looking up at Mithryn, beamed. Placing his gentle hands on her waist, he effortlessly lifted her down. Curious whispers spread quickly through the crowd as Legolas was unquestionably smitten by the mortal.

Holding Mithryn's hand, he walked her to his father whose face bore no sign of his utter bewilderment. "Father," Legolas said, proudly and full of heart, "this is the Lady Mithryn." The king nodded in reply, but was rather suspicious and confused as to his son's meaning of this, rather familiar, introduction. "Mithryn," Legolas continued, "this is my father, King Thranduil, Lord of North Mirkwood." Mithryn had never before met a king, but as Legolas had counseled her upon first greetings, she properly and gracefully curtseyed in the elven manner with lowered, humble eyes and said, "Elen sila lúmenn' omentielvo."

"Father, I have declared Mithryn Elf-friend as she has, indeed, become a great friend to me. Without her, I would not be here with you now." Thranduil stared at the mortal maiden in curious wonder. His mood was torn between overwhelming relief for Legolas's return, and bafflement toward this outsider whom his son brought with him. Legolas, however, smiled and gazed at her with loving pride.

Thranduil saw all, and was not pleased; however, neither was he rude, nor would he think to treat the guest of his son with any disrespect. "Welcome then, Mithryn, Elf-friend, to my domain. Walk with us, please, as we return to our homes and halls. There shall be a great feast tonight as there is much to celebrate! How fortunate that the weather is fair."

The king, his three sons, and Mithryn then strode toward the Palace, followed closely by the gathering of kith and kin. As they walked, Legolas gently clasped Mithryn's hand; it did not escape Thranduil's observing eye. Nathuil approached Anfalas and, after asking permission from the strange horse, gently grasped her bridle and led her to the stables.

The large gathering walked onward until reaching the king's palace. Elves soon disbursed, eager to make preparations for the night's special celebrations, and to spread word of their prince's return. Mithryn marveled at how beautiful and harmonious the Elven kingdom was. From her vantage point in the clearing, she could see many ornately carved, circular Elven homes, stacked one atop the other, nestled in-between towering trees. Lattice-laced, winding stairs curled at the side. Large, private huts also adorned the forest terrain. Scrolling gingerbread fluting hung from the roofs, and creeping ivy, as well as colourful morning-glories, entwined over the cabins, dripping off the roof like living icicles.

The king turned his attention toward an Elf-matron who was large with child. "Mithryn, may I present to you Elmarin?" he said, introducing the two. "This is the Lady Mithryn who shall be our guest. Would you be so good as to look after her?" The lady smiled, curtseyed slightly and placed a gentle hand on Mithryn's arm, directing her away from the palace halls to one of the cottages. Mithryn turned back to look at Legolas. He smiled and nodded to her, assuring her that all was well before he was led over the bridge and into the halls deep within the palace caves.

Mithryn stared at Elmarin whose skin glowed as if with radiant light. Her golden hair was braided and wrapped up over the crown of her head, as more flowing tresses trailed down her long back. Mithryn marveled at how beautiful she was. The lady turned to the shy mortal and smiled. "I hope you shall like it here, Mithryn."

"Thank you," Mithryn said, timidly; however, she refrained from voicing her scepticism. She felt strangely homesick as she was unused to crowds and large groups of people, even though she knew none here meant her any harm.

Elmarin led Mithryn up a winding path to a spacious cabin. It had a high thatched roof and many arched windows with delicately etched glass. Opening the curved door, Elmarin led her inside. Tall, intricately woven candlesticks stood about the room and a fire was lit which was burning merrily in the stone hearth. The bed's four posts entwined upwards toward the high ceiling like vines. Richly woven blankets of green and blue covered the bed. A table with two chairs sat against another wall, its legs matching those of the spiraling bedposts. A spread of fresh fruit and red wine was lavishly set for the inhabiting guest. Flowing sapphire curtains dripped from the windows and gracefully swayed with the incoming breeze.

"Did you know of my coming?" Mithryn said in awe, gazing about her magnificent room.

"Word was sent that Legolas brought with him a guest." A knock was heard at the door and Elmarin answered. An Elf entered carrying all of Mithryn's belongings, including Gilóre.

"Taranin, how good of you! Mithryn, this is Taranin, my husband."

Mithryn curtsied as Taranin bowed. He gently placed her parcels on the table. "I have been admiring your sword, Lady Mithryn. I have never seen its equal, excepting of the blades crafted in Rivendell."

Mithryn smiled. "Rivendell! Truly, that is astonishing! It was a gift to me by my father, but I know not where he might have acquired it."

"In Rivendell," Taranin said, "unless I am very much mistaken. Elmarin, I fear I must leave you now. Much is there to prepare for tonight and his lordship is keeping none free of duty." He placed an affectionate, gentle hand around his wife's waist. "Pray do not over exert yourself. Remember you are to be at ease during this time."

"I know; I shan't be long," Elmarin said lovingly before her husband took his leave of them both and quietly shut the door.

"How kind of him to bring me my belongings," Mithryn said, beginning to unpack her clothes. She eyed her few dresses for the first time with embarrassment. They were much worn and indelicately made as she had no skill for sewing. Gazing at Elmarin's beautifully tailored dress, Mithryn admired its azure fabric, flowing like water when she moved, and its silver trim which sparkled like diamonds as the soft light touched it.

Elmarin observed Mithryn unpacking her meager belongings and seemed to sense her distress. "With such a grand occasion as tonight's festivities, would you like a gown to be prepared for you?"

"No, no," Mithryn said, embarrassed. "I would not wish to put anyone to that amount of trouble."

"No trouble would it be for us, truly." Elmarin reached out with a delicate hand, gently touching Mithryn's curly locks. "What extraordinary hair you have, like lively flame. And green eyes! Most enchanting. You are the first mortal woman I have met, you know; others I have seen, but, only from a distance."

"Really?" Mithryn replied in amazement. She had encountered other Elven Ladies while living in her cottage, but only very few.

"I believe a green dress would compliment your eyes. Yes, I am sure of it; and contrast exquisitely with your hair. One shall be made immediately. Elven-maidens will arrive soon to take the necessary measurements. Until then, do rest and have some refreshment. I shall see you again tonight."

"Thank you, Elmarin. You have been so kind to me. I am overwhelmed."

"Are you so unused to such kindnesses?" Elmarin asked, sadly. "How fortunate, then, you have come to us."

She departed and Mithryn was left alone to ponder Elmarin's heartfelt words. It was true, Mithryn agreed, such generosity seemed foreign to her. The Woodland Folk were never friendly, and visitors had been few and far between. She finished unpacking her possessions, finding homes for her doll, the broken lamp, Gilóre, and her father's pipe. Her cabin now felt like home.

Meanwhile, Legolas had been standing in his own bedchamber in the palace, gazing about, trying to register that he was truly there. Just a short while ago, under an orc blade, he thought he would never see home again. No windows were located in his room but a massive, circular chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling which gave off much warm light from its many small lamps. The substantial fireplace, which had been lit upon his arrival, glowed heartily, taking the chill out of the room. His bed stood in the center, its four posts carved into thick, straight poles from which translucent cloth hung in folds. Large tapestries, lovingly made by his people illustrating events from his long life, decorated the walls. They included his birth, his first hunt, and his role in the Battle of the Five Armies.

Opening his tall armoire, he unfastened his weapons' harness and placed his bow, arrow quiver, and long blade back in their old home. He felt little need for material possessions but kept some which had special meaning to his heart upon his bureau. On a purple, velvet cushion was a ring belonging to his mother prior to her departure. It had been crafted by the Dwarves during friendlier times. It shone of mithril while an exquisite leafy stone sat in the center. "This shall now be Mithryn's," he thought with joy. "Mother would be pleased."

Other articles which adorned his dresser included several books, all aged, cracked, well worn, and long held dear to him as they told the tales of Elves past, their successes, as well as their failures. A tall washstand stood beside the bureau, a large basin and plump jug set atop it, which he had owned for as long as his memory allowed.

Unbuttoning his doublet, he gingerly extracted another item to which he now held dear. It was a dried, elegantly woven necklet of sweet, yellowed flowers; the very gift Mithryn had made for him upon his first arrival to her realm. He now held the frail band in his hands before gently placing it around the cushioned ring, encircling it.

His door suddenly burst open; his brothers barging in, all three of them. "Legolas?!" Haldof exclaimed, embracing his long lost brother. "I did not believe it! I thought my brothers to be very cruel, indeed, to be telling me that you had returned!"

"They are cruel," Legolas teased, "but they do not lie of my return. How are you?" he said, concerned. Haldof appeared to him thin and frail with dark hollows neath his bright eyes.

"Oh, I am well now you have returned to us! We should have known that you could not be so easily slain by orcs!"

"Ai, what is this?" Legolas asked in confusion.

"We searched for weeks, Legolas, but found little trace of you," Tarnil said, solemnly.

"Our hearts mourned for we all believed you dead," Galamed added gravely.

Legolas's spirit grew serious. Gazing at Haldof's much altered face, he now fully grasped how his absence had affected those he loved. "I am grieved, for I did not know. It was not my intention to cause you all so much pain or to be gone as long as I had. Events prevented me from returning sooner, and yet, it is clear to me that you have suffered greatly." Guilt took firm hold and would not release.

Haldof's spirits again rose and he wrapped a weak arm around Legolas's mighty shoulders. "Ah, it is we who should have been the wiser," spouted Haldof, now light of heart. "Nay, I do not believe even a Balrog could smite this Elf down!" Laughter erupted from the brothers but Legolas's shame did not wane.

"Come, Galamed and Haldof," bade Tarnil. "We must prepare for tonight. If we prevent Legolas from arriving on time, I greatly fear Father's wrath."

Haldof, however, turned once more to his long-lost brother. "Legolas returneth from the dead. What good tidings indeed!" Haldof said, embracing him once more before making a quick departure. Their merry laughter echoed in the cave corridors and they left Legolas alone. He hung his head in contrition but could not regret his choice to stay with Mithryn. Indeed, following his recovery from the orc wound, he had returned as quickly as possible. And yet, that supreme knowledge failed to ease his remorse.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	10. Chapter X Best Intentions

**CHAPTER 10**

**BEST INTENTIONS**

It was, indeed, a most beautiful night for the special celebration, air and wind being warm and fragrant. Stars twinkled, glistening brightly, decorating the cloudless night sky. Tall candelabra were brought out-of-doors into the clearing; a soft breeze caused the lights to flicker and dance merrily. Long tables were set and festively decorated with filmy, gossamer cloth, silver dishes, and leafy green centerpieces adorned with sprays of wild flowers and ripe, red berries.

Talented musicians, singers, and storytellers joyously unveiled their skill, taking turns as all the elves of the kingdom slowly arrived dressed in their best attire. The guest of honour, Legolas, also entered, handsomely clothed in formal robes which were long, deep Royal blue, and made of the softest, most luscious velvet, feeling like cream to the skin. Elaborate silver brocade, spun of pure silver, edged his ensemble; it glistened in the starlight, setting off the glint in his own eyes.

Elves burst into glorious applause upon his entrance, and all again wished to relate their overwhelming relief. Legolas dutifully attended to his citizens as did his three brothers upon their arrival. While mingling with his people, Legolas's eyes glanced about the busy spectacle ceaselessly, but surreptitiously, searching for Mithryn. At last, he caught sight of her standing alone at the edge of the clearing. Smiling, and excusing himself, he walked briskly to her as she stood shyly aloof.

At first, he had not noticed the change in her gown, for such things did not engross his mind. However, seeing her donned in the cloth of his people caused his heart to jump. Her low, tight bodice accentuated her feminine physique. The close, fitted waist flourished into a long, voluminous skirt which swayed with the gentle wind. Delicate, flowing sleeves ended below her wrists, while lengthy folds underneath trailed down, gently grazing the ground. He marveled at how the dark, emerald hue brought out the colour in her eyes. The golden filigree braid scrolled in an elven twining design emphasized her low hemline. He stood beside her in the dim, private cover of trees, smiling at her radiance.

She gazed up at him. "I missed you this afternoon."

"As I missed you. Ah, but how beautifully you shine tonight! You make the stars jealous," he said, impishly.

"Oh, do not tease!" she said, enjoying his sweet words. "What do you think of my hair? The maids were quite at a loss as to how to dress it. They had never decorated curls before."

Legolas examined her intricately woven locks. The maidens had done a supreme job, he thought. They had braided ringlets together, and pulled them up, while still allowing bountiful curls to cascade down her back. "Breathtaking," he said, adoringly. "How odd it felt to be away from you even for a few short hours. Strange, for no matter what I do, you are always in my thoughts."

"I understand, for it is the same with me." She then turned as musicians struck a loud and boisterous melody. "All seem very happy at your return. I believe you were missed much more than you had considered."

"Yes," Legolas said, guiltily, but not wishing to share his remorse. Mithryn looked timidly at the growing assembly with nervous eyes; crowds frightened her as she felt awkward and out of place.

Legolas's eyes followed her gaze. "I will not abandon you."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I am unused to such gatherings. Having lived a solitary life for such a long period of time, I fear it has caused me to become slightly unsure of myself while in a crowd."

"That is to be understood. Wood-elves, by nature, are suspicious of strangers, but you need not fear their censure. You are my personal guest; naught will happen to you." Yet, he knew, but could not say, that it would be many long decades before the elves would regard her as one of them. He gazed about his home, and then at her. "In truth, I cannot believe we are here."

"I am of the same mind for I keep expecting to wake and find myself alone."

"I swear to you that never again shall it be so," he said reassuringly, and leaning down, kissed her with soft, tender lips.

Haldof had been busy looking for Legolas, though the sight of his brother in such an indiscreet spectacle caught him completely by surprise. He had heard nothing of a mortal guest in the kingdom.

"Haldof, there you are!" exclaimed Tarnil as he approached his shocked brother.

"Tarnil, who is that Lady?" Haldof asked in bewilderment.

Tarnil gazed at the romantic scene Legolas and Mithryn displayed, and quickly averted his eyes. Haldof, however, could not.

"Uh," Tarnil said, uncomfortably, "that is the Lady Mithryn whom Legolas has brought back with him."

"Brought back with him?! What do you suppose his intentions are?"

Tarnil stared at Haldof for a few moments with wide eyes. "One can only guess."

"But, she is a mortal!"

Tarnil sighed. "I know."

Turning, Legolas saw his brothers and, immediately, he and Mithryn joined them. Introductions, bows, curtsies, and kind greetings followed, but not from all. It vehemently struck Mithryn that her presence was not welcomed by Haldof. His dark, penetrating glower failed to escape Legolas's notice either. Firmly nudging Haldof's arm, Legolas cast him a warning glare of his own. Tarnil glanced back and forth at the irate pair before turning to Mithryn. "What say you, Mithryn? Shall I properly introduce you to our people? It will not do to keep you hidden. All are waiting to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, Tarnil," she said, grateful for his gentle kindness. If Legolas and Haldof were to have a falling out, she would rather not bear witness. Casting one more glance at Legolas, she took Tarnil's arm, and was led to the merry gathering.

"Why did you do that?" Legolas harshly whispered to Haldof when they were at last alone.

"How dare you reproach me?! I saw you, Legolas! I believe everyone present saw you."

"I care not. Nor do I owe you an explanation for my actions. You forget, Brother, that I am your elder."

"How like you to remind me that I am but a year your junior. Legolas, have you gone mad?! Of what were you thinking, bringing a mortal here?!" he fumed in a hushed tone, not wanting to make a scene.

"That is my concern alone, and not for you to say."

Haldof's face grew hot with Legolas's impudence. "What a king you shall make, Legolas! I never thought you for one who would take a mistress. If that is what you wish, bed her then, and be done with it."

Legolas's eyes flashed dangerously as he stepped close, whispering, ever so quietly: "Never say such to me again."

The sudden invigorating sound of many iavin interrupted their heated discussion. Quiet settled on the clearing as the king, resplendent in distinguished violet robes, walked onto the trellised bridge. "Tonight we are most fortunate to celebrate the return of my eldest son, Legolas." The crowd erupted in cheers upon hearing Thranduil's words. Raising his hands, silence again descended. "As you can see, Legolas, you were sadly missed. Alas, where is Legolas? Pray come forth!"

Legolas cast a last darkened glance at Haldof before adorning his fair face with a diplomatic smile as he joined his father. Thranduil placed a tender hand on his son's strong shoulder. "Son, we are exceedingly thankful to have you returned to us. Much are we, also, pleased to welcome your guest, the Lady Mithryn, into our domain. Elf-friend, you shall forever be welcome with us!" More applause escaped the assembly, which touched Mithryn deeply. Her fear and uncertainty of the Wood-elves diminished considerably at their warm response. Upon catching Legolas's eye, Mithryn and he shared a moment of delighted acceptance; all plans for their future were now beginning to bear fruit.

Thranduil continued when all were hushed once more. "Let us all be mirthful tonight and have no more disparaging thoughts! Welcome home, my son!" Thranduil embraced Legolas, and roaring praise echoed into the wide wood. Elves standing guard far on the outskirts of the kingdom heard their gaiety and felt proud to be protecting so marvelous an Empire.

Feasting, dancing, tales, music and song lasted well into the night and early morn until, at last, the stars began to fade into the awakening sky. Legolas and Mithryn had taken part in all, making merry themselves as they were together and could wish for little more. Haldof remained resolved and maintained a disapproving distance, but few noticed. Tarnil and Galamed said naught to him as both felt this was a time for festivity and not the right moment to discuss Legolas's romantic sensibilities.

Indeed, even the king felt the following day to be a more appropriate time for discussing Legolas's decisions. He was heartily glad to see his son home, yet, necessity called for explanations to be made. Therefore, he summoned each of his sons to be present, feeling it concerned them all. The five sat at the long table in the king's private study, where words were less likely to be overheard. A fire had been lit within the hearth, and food and drink set upon the table, but was blatantly ignored, as all attention was bestowed upon the returned hero.

Haldof's scowl had not faded with the stars for he still eyed his brother reprovingly, but said nothing. Legolas did not wait for requests and, upon the oak door being shut, began his long report starting with his separation from the battle scene. Several times his brothers nodded in understanding as gaps from the puzzle were at last filled in. Legolas told them of Ugnúl, of his near-fatal injury, and of his great esteem for Mithryn's courage and skill in healing. All listened with stilled tongues. "If not for Mithryn," he concluded, "I would not be here. There is not a doubt in my mind," he said at last, completing his story.

All sat still, none knowing what to say. Tarnil broke the silence. "Legolas, I fail to understand you. Did you bring her here out of gratitude?" he asked softly, trying desperately to comprehend but fearing to offend.

"Nay," Legolas replied with distaste, "I am grateful she saved me, to be sure, but that is not why I brought her here."

"Then, what was your design in doing so?" Thranduil asked gently.

"I had thought my intention would be obvious to you, Father. Never would I attempt to mask my feelings for Mithryn for I am not ashamed of where my heart lies."

Eyes shifted from one to the other in disapproval. "Am I to understand that you have given her your heart?" Galamed asked.

"Aye, I have," replied Legolas, staunchly.

Haldof let out an exasperated huff which Legolas chose to ignore. Thranduil, meanwhile, covered his mouth with his hand, jaw locked. Never would he have wished such a dire fate for a child of his.

Legolas could see the torment spread over his father's fair face. "I am sorry. I had meant to request permission prior to bringing her here, but, soon did I realize, I could not leave her."

Thranduil's eyes rose to meet his son's; both adamantly staring at each other. "Son, she is a mortal. You know the price for loving one of her kind. Do you think you can withstand the torment of seeing her wither and die before you? Have no illusions! While years pass, you shall remain youthful as she will diminish and perish. Think you can bear this, my son?"

Without blinking, Legolas replied: "Mithryn has lived many years in the lives of Men, and not grown old. Perhaps she..."

"Legolas, live not in a dream!" Thranduil beseeched. "Her end is her fate. She is not elf-kind. Death is Mithryn's only certainty."

"Do none of you understand?" Legolas bowed his head. "I love Mithryn. Never before had I thought such love existed. You cannot ask me to relinquish that. I love you as well; you are my father, yet, Mithryn has my heart; impossible to be otherwise, now. Please do not ask me to choose."

Haldof banged his fists on the table in fury. "You think only of yourself and never how your actions affect others! Need I remind you of your duty to our family, and our reputation, example, and Kingdom?!" he snapped at Legolas before blasting out of the room, fuming in rage.

Tarnil sighed as the storm of Haldof passed. "Although I do not agree with his choice of words, Haldof makes a point that should not be ignored."

Legolas, wounded, gazed at Tarnil for, of all his brothers, he had believed Tarnil would empathize most with his plight. "What of you?" he asked, turning to Galamed.

"What would you have me say?" Galamed said, quietly. "That I am happy for you? I am. Yet, I am also sad for you, Brother, for this cannot end happily, and end it must one day."

Legolas could find no words to his brother's aching, heartfelt sentiments. In his mind's eye, he could see Mithryn fade with time and pass into the mortal heavens without him, never to be seen again. The most painful choice now stood before him; he must choose either his only love, or his family. He had seen the death of kinsmen before, passing away in the slashing, brutality of war. He remembered seeing their life exit, and all that remained was the memory of the Elf, now gone forever. The thought of bearing witness to Mithryn's demise caused his heart to burn. The other option, forsaking her and denying his heart, was equally unacceptable. If love to him was denied, then he knew his choice. He would rather spend this short time with her resplendent sprit, then spend all of eternity regretting his only chance at happiness.

Thranduil sat in silence, carefully deciding what to say. "These are heavy words, spoken from the hearts of those who love you. I could not bid you to choose between your heart and your family, and still ask you to love me. If you and she wish to wed, I will not forbid it. However, may I ask Mithryn's opinion on this subject?"

"Sir?"

Thranduil sensed discomfort in his son. "Does Mithryn understand the risks involved in an Elf giving his heart to a mortal?"

At last came the moment when Legolas's certainty failed him. Stumbling on his words, he was loath to give an answer, but knew better than attempt to deceive his father. "Uh...we...have not discussed it, as yet."

"And you come to me, mind previously set? You care not how she feels?"

"Aye, Father. Of course I do," replied Legolas, quietly.

The king nodded, and turned toward a servant standing statuesquely along the far wall. "Pray, request the Lady Mithryn to join us if this is a convenient time." The attendant bowed and departed in quick execution of his duty, quietly closing the door behind him.

"We shall discuss it, Father; of this, I promise you. Why ask Mithryn to come now?" Legolas asked in sudden panic.

"You have plans to wed this Lady, and yet, you do not wish me to speak with her? Have some faith, Legolas. I shall not throw her into the dungeons, nor banish her from my Kingdom. As I have said before, I do not fully object to the marriage. I, of course, had hopes that an Elf-maiden would catch your eye, but naught is to be done now. Are you satisfied?"

Legolas was not satisfied. This meeting made him nervous, for he felt it unlikely she would thank him for omitting certain truths.

Soon the servant reappeared, Mithryn stepping quickly behind, awestruck upon sight of the radiance of the Elven king's personal study. Tarnil, Galamed, and Legolas all rose upon her arrival, in traditional, courtly fashion.

"Ah, Mithryn," the king said, rising, and taking her small hands, led her to the table himself. Pulling out a chair for her, he said gently, "Pray sit, my dear."

She smiled, and shyly accepted. Legolas remained standing, anxiously awaiting his father's words. Tarnil and Galamed had just returned to their seats when Thranduil said lightly, "Thank you, my sons. You may now leave us."

Tarnil and Galamed turned to each other, blinking. Legolas's jaw dropped slightly and his words did not come as gracefully as his father's. "But Father, I..."

"I assure you, Legolas," Thranduil said, interrupting, "Mithryn is in the greatest of care."

She cast Legolas a brave smile, but he felt like he was abandoning her to some vague, unwitting danger. However, he knew better than to refuse his father. He simply nodded and humbly strode past the guard and out of the chamber with his young brothers trailing closely behind. The king also sat at the table in a high-backed, ornately carved chair, very fit for a king, Mithryn thought. Thranduil gazed at her and smiled kindly. It struck her how much Legolas resembled his father, both in temperament as well as in face.

"Do I frighten you?" Thranduil asked, sensitively.

"A little," Mithryn confessed.

Thranduil was amused. He had a great respect for honesty. "Please be at ease. I wish only that we may speak frankly. Legolas spoke to me of his affection for you. I understand he wishes for the two of you to wed. Is this your desire, as well?"

"Aye, my lord. I love him very much."

The king nodded, and then blushed slightly. "Pardon my manners, my dear. Would you care for some refreshment?"

"Thank you," Mithryn said.

Thranduil filled the goblets with the deep, red liquid and, sipping from his own, turned his thought to the past day's events. A laugh escaped him. "What a time it has been!" he said aloud. "We had started our long period of lamentations for Legolas, and now it does not feel as though my son has actually returned to us, and yet my eyes declare it to be true. Will you not tell me more of yourself, my dear? My conversation with Legolas scarcely broached the subject."

"It is a long story," Mithryn said, in lighthearted warning.

The king smiled, diverted. "Ah, but I am an Elf, and we are partial to lengthy tales which last for many days. Time is what we have aplenty."

"As you wish," Mithryn replied, and began her long story. She told him of her childhood in the Gladden Fields, and of the orc attack. Thranduil interrupted often, making enquiries as to details, much like Legolas had done. She told him of her little realm and passing long decades in virtual seclusion which brought concern to the king's noble face. When at last the tale was complete, he sat back, and gazed long into the burning fire. "What a mystery you are to me," the king said quietly, almost as though he were speaking to himself.

"No more than I am to myself. It can be a frightening prospect not knowing where you belong in the world and having none to turn to for guidance. Yet, it is not so when I am with Legolas for no longer do I feel lost or alone."

Thranduil turned to her, marveling at her tender words. Clearly could he see her sincere love for his son, just as there was no mistaking Legolas's genuine feeling for her. And yet, there lay something that could not be overlooked. "You have not had the company of Elves long, my dear, so I will tell you of Elves and love. It is not forbidden for an Elf to marry a mortal. Indeed, some have done so though the ages, but for the elf, that love can come at a dear price."

Without realizing it, Mithryn's face became serious, her hands trembling in her lap. She knew not what the king would say but did not like the doom in his words or the cold feeling forming in her heart.

He continued in a grave manner: "You know that we, when born, are given immortal life. As elves, we are not hindered by sickness, or the frailty of old age. That is our gift, but even so, we are not completely immortal. In battle we can be slain, and wounds may harm us. Love is equally as dangerous."

"Love? How so, my lord?"

"I begin by telling you the story of Aredwë. Her elven lineage matters not, but know that she fell in love with a mortal. Now, this was a very long time ago, however, her fate would not alter if they were alive today. She fell in love with Thargel, who was shortly thereafter killed in battle. Not being able to cope with such a loss, she died...of a broken heart."

"But...how?"

"I cannot describe to you the profound feelings my people endure. Let it be enough that the loss of a loved one can prove unbearable. If their heart is attached to a mortal, when the mortal dies, the elf must live on for all eternity alone. That prospect, that fate, elves see as damnation and not a gift, for elves seldom love more than one. They carry the memory and pain...so clearly...forever."

Mithryn's heart was breaking, but she would not allow herself to display such emotion before the mighty king. "Why do you tell me this?" she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

"Not to cause you grief or pain; not to punish you. I thought you should know something of what we are. Of this, we cannot change." He paused, unsure of the proper words. "I feel it incumbent upon me to tell you that if Legolas and you wed, there is a very great danger of his passing from this life, and from all who care for him."

Her pain could not be concealed. She fell forward slightly, head down, palms flat on the table as she braced herself. A tear welled in her eye and escaped without a blink.

"Mithryn, I would not have you think me wholly against your betrothal, for I am not. Your affection for each other is clear, and I do wish my son to have happiness. Yet, you must see that though happiness it is, it will be short-lived."

She breathed deeply, and wiped away her salty tears. Her face was strong and commanding, her voice firm in purpose. "Aye, my lord. I do. I know what I must do. Thank you for being so kind to me. Know that I do not begrudge you having told me thus." She rose out of her seat, effectively terminating the meeting. He arose as well, now deeply concerned as to her meaning but reluctant to enquire. "Pray," she continued, "I hope you shall forgive my rudeness. I must see Legolas."

"Of course," Thranduil replied. She curtsied, and exited the room in deeply, desolated spirits.

Once alone, her steps fell slowly and laboriously in the winding corridor. All strength seemed removed from her knees, twice her hand having to seize the wall for support. "It is so unfair," she thought, hand covering her mouth, attempting to calm the sickening feeling that lurched in her stomach; happiness had almost been hers.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think. This chapter changed a bit.


	11. Chapter XI The Future of Many

**CHAPTER 11**

**THE FUTURE OF MANY**

Mithryn exited the palace and stood on the delicately trellised bridge, hand covering her mouth. Composing herself once more, she strode off toward her cottage trying not to lose her way as the cabins all looked so similar.

Once inside her cozy chamber, she paced about the room in agitated spirits, thinking it best to calm herself before seeking Legolas. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Mithryn pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to pacify the feeling of fluttering butterflies inside. "Enter," she said, nervously. The door opened wide and in strode Legolas. He approached hastily and grasped her tiny hands. "What did you and my father speak of for so long?" he demanded, eyes bearing down on hers.

"You know what was said."

Legolas's eyes turned away from the pain he saw in her face, and released her hands.

"Why did you not tell me?" she pleaded, voice shaking.

"It was a risk I knew you would not approve of," he said, standing at a window, looking out but seeing nothing.

"You were correct in your assumption. I want you to live forever, Legolas."

"Even if it meant being without you for all eternity? If I were to die, how well would you bear my passing?"

Mithryn choked as tears freely fell from her eyes. She knew the answer to his question, but could not bear to reply. The thought of his dying tore her heart apart. She could no more imagine life without him, then she could an after-life. Her own feelings cast aside, however, she would rather continue living a life alone than risk her beloved's immortal life. "Legolas, I think it best for me to go away. I fear I can no longer stay here."

Legolas turned quickly, his face distressed. "You wish to leave? Me? Here? Why? I do not understand! We have only just arrived." Panic streaked through his veins with a swifter, stronger potency than that of the Orc poison, and had a more devastating effect. At length he asked, hardly able to breath, "Do you not want to marry me?"

"Of course I do, Legolas. There is nothing my heart desires more. But, I cannot allow you to sacrifice your life for mine."

"It is by no means certain!"

"Legolas, our love, what we share together, is so uniquely special I cannot imagine either of us surviving if the other were taken. Can you? Your life is much more important to me than my own happiness. It is a risk not worth taking."

Mithryn turned, and began to collect her belongings. Her movements were reluctant, her whole body listless, but her mind would not be persuaded. Legolas watched her in horrified silence, words unable to leave his lips. Mithryn continued, "I think I shall go to Rivendell. It will be nice to travel. How I have hated living in fear all of these years. Later I may return to my little cottage. I will see where the world will take me. Think your father would write a letter to Lord Elrond for me? It is Lord Elrond, is it not?"

In two great strides, Legolas swept her into his tight embrace. "Do not do this, Mithryn. I beg of you; do not go."

Mithryn raised her teary eyes to his. "If I leave, you cannot watch me wither and die with time; you shall live your foreordained life; the life you were born to live...as an immortal Elf. When you truly love someone, you are willing to relinquish your own joy for their sake."

His strong arms did not relax; he still held her firmly in his grip, unwilling to relinquish her. Legolas closed his eyes in agony. "You know not what you ask of me, Mithryn. When you fade away, I shall live on, forever, never to see you again, never to speak with you, never to hold you. How can you wish to condemn me to such a life?"

"Because I love you, Legolas."

Pressing her close, she rested her head on his powerful chest. "You, therefore, leave me no choice." Gently stroking her head, his hand caressed her soft curls. "I would rather have you for whatever time you give me, then not at all. Every moment will I cherish." He leaned down, kissing her with trembling lips, his salty tears blending with her own on her soft cheek. Holding her securely, he said: "I swear I shall do whatever you ask of me to the best of my heart's ability. Above all else, I want you to be happy."

"I am happy with you," she said, hands reaching up to his silky face, wiping away the tears.

Haldof gazed upward to the overcast sky, clouds churning high above him. "Rain is nigh," he thought as he walked along the quiet forest floor. He stopped at the massive trunk of Belegaladh and leaned against it in deep contemplation.

"Think it will rain?" a voice sounded from above. Haldof turned hastily to see Legolas sitting alone, prominently in the boughs of the mighty tree.

"Why did you not tell me you were there?" Haldof scolded.

"I just did. Will you not come up?"

Haldof sighed and climbed up the gnarled tree. Though he sat beside Legolas, his mood remained irritable. Silence ensued while Legolas shrouded himself in a brooding gloom. Out of the corner of his eye, Haldof studied his brother closely, his disposition thawing at the sight of Legolas's despair. "Do you think Father is still in council with Mithryn?" Haldof said at last.

"How did you know he called her forth?"

"Galamed told me of it."

"Ah," Legolas said. "Nay, their meeting has ceased; I have seen her."

"And?"

"And..." Legolas continued, reluctantly, "and she will have none of it."

"What?" Haldof exclaimed in confusion.

"She threatened to leave if I would not promise to live on after she has gone."

Haldof's face softened with newfound esteem for the mortal. He had then only to regret his own conduct toward her, which now embarrassed him greatly.

"I know not how I shall live without her, Haldof, once she has passed." Legolas said, grief for the future weighing down upon him.

Turning to him, Haldof comfortingly placed a hand on Legolas's back. Though he could not approve of Mithryn, the love for his brother was foremost. Haldof sighed, relenting his hardened will. "Mithryn has lived a rather prolonged life for a mortal; is this not so?"

"Aye, it is true. Long has she resided in seclusion, aging slowly."

"Legolas, you know not how it will be in the future. She is a mortal, to be sure, but is afforded a much longer life than other mortals we know of. It is not certain how many years she has, of course, but I would think them plenty. What I mean is, this is a lot of drama for an event that is very far away, do you not think? You always were one for dramatics, and making a scene..."

The realization of these irrefutable words hit Legolas harder than any orc blow. His mind had been so filled with the thought of her eventual death, never did he think of the length of her life. Under these circumstances, she could, with all probability, live many centuries before leaving him.

Haldof continued when Legolas said naught. "You will not have eternity together, I admit; however, even if you were to wed an elf, there is still no certainty. You may yet be killed in battle. I say this only as an example. What I mean to say is, marry where your heart bids you, and be grateful of the time that is given to you. That is all anyone can hope for, I believe."

"Then, you are not opposed to her?"

"Nay," Haldof replied, slightly lying through his teeth. "I'll readily admit that the ramifications of a mortal wed to my brother did unhinge me, at first. But, if you choose to stay with us, I care not whom you marry...so long as it is not to a Dwarf-maiden!" Haldof said blithely, as he jocosely nudged his brother's arm. Legolas laughed, shaking his head at his brother's wry sense of humour.

"That, I could never consent to," Haldof continued. Legolas replied by giving him a playful push in brotherly fashion, forcing Haldof to quickly regain his precarious balance on the branch. Warm spring rain began to fall and, within minutes, both were drenched through. The brothers, however, cared little as Wood-elves have a bond with nature and feel joy in all weathers.

Suddenly, Galamed and Tarnil, equally saturated, ran to the base of Belegaladh, eyes searching through the foliage. "Legolas! Haldof!" they cried. "You must come!"

Seeing their brothers' alarm, Legolas and Haldof leaped out of the tree with aerialist alacrity, gracefully landing on the soaked ground. "What is it?" Legolas asked promptly.

"Elmarin; her time has come," Tarnil said attempting to catch his breath.

"The childbirth labour began last night," said Galamed, continuing. "Taranin was on watch, but none did Elmarin call to aid her."

"It was my understanding that Taranin had been relieved of his duties," Legolas said.

"Elmarin would hear none of it as she is weeks early," Galamed said, abashed.

"Taranin just returned from his watch and discovered her," Tarnil added, "and all does not go well."

Legolas, in haste, headed for the palace, and all followed his step. "Have the midwives been summoned?"

"Aye," said Galamed, "but Elmarin is past the age to beget children. I spoke to Narbeleth briefly, and she has much concern for Elmarin. And of the child..."

"Does Father know?" Haldof inquired.

"Aye," Tarnil answered, "but he is resigned to whatever the fates may bring. However, you know how long it has been since a child was born into our kingdom. If it should die..."

Legolas's rapid stride broke away from the path to the palace, and veered right. All three followed him, despite confusion. "Where are you going?" Haldof asked, baffled. Not answering, Legolas halted at Mithryn's cottage and knocked on the door. "Mithryn?!" There was no reply. He knocked loudly once more, and called her again, before opening the door. The room stood empty. The only movement came from the sapphire curtains blowing in the breeze. Legolas gazed about the lifeless room, a pool of water forming at his feet.

"Where is she?" Tarnil asked.

"I do not know." Legolas quickly exited the room, shutting the door. "We must find her!"

"Legolas, if you fear she has left you, now is not the time to search," Haldof said, indignantly. "Our kindred need our assistance!"

"Mithryn is an exceptional healer," Legolas explained, allowing his brother's foolish words to pass. "You know not her power. She could be of great help. What assistance could we be, Haldof? We know nothing of bringing Elves into the world."

"And what can Mithryn know of that matter?" rebuked Haldof, aggravated.

"It is not in the delivery where her strengths lie. We must find her if we wish to be of any aid to Elmarin and Taranin." The three nodded. "Tarnil, check the stables for Anfalas, her mare. Haldof and Galamed, scour the paths. She may be eastbound."

"And what of you?" inquired Haldof.

Legolas's thoughts sailed painfully back to Mithryn's words of Rivendell and Lord Elrond. "I must see Father. Go!" All four brothers ran with haste in various directions, sprinting with agile grace through the downpour of rain.

Legolas burst into the great hall to find, not his father, but a gathering of a hundred noble Elven lords and ladies, patiently waiting for news. Taranin sat, obviously distressed, but rose upon Legolas's entrance. "Have you word of Elmarin?" he asked, anxiously.

"Nay, I am the bearer of no news yet, Taranin, but I have not relinquished all hope. Where is my father?"

"He has retired to his study, I believe."

Legolas hurried off through the labyrinth of passageways to the king's private library. Without knocking, he burst into the room to see his father seated at the long, oak table, composing a letter. Legolas hastily approached him, his dripping hair accidently causing a spray of water to land upon the letter.

"Legolas! Now I must begin anew!"

"Father, to whom are you writing?"

"Elrond," the king replied, perturbed, pulling out another piece of parchment. "And truly, Legolas, please master the custom of knocking prior to entering."

"Father, do not do this!" Legolas cried in desperation.

Thranduil gazed up at his son with puzzled eyes. "You confuse me, Legolas. Why must I not write to Elrond?"

"Father, Mithryn must be confused...or doubtful of my veracity! Pray, do not write this letter for her! You cannot wish her to leave!"

Blinking, Thranduil responded: "I assure you, she has made no such request. This letter only solicits news of Mithrandir, of whom I worry greatly."

Outwardly, Legolas merely stood gaping; inwardly, he was condemning his own blatant conjecture, insecurity and lack of trust. "I am sorry, Father. It appears it is I who am confused."

"Yes, yes, I am not surprised at all, for you never change. If you seek Mithryn, she was last entertaining herself in the Archives."

Legolas exited quickly, stepping with light feet down the winding corridors to the Archives Chamber. Enormous bookshelves rose to the high, vaulted ceiling. Crumbling rolls of parchment, and ancient, cracked books filled the shelves. When Legolas stepped into the chamber, he saw Mithryn sitting in a chair, reading a book by flickering candlelight. "Mithryn," he called.

She looked up, and smiled. "Legolas! Why, you are soaked through! Is it raining, or did Haldof throw you in the river again?" she said, leaving the book open on the table.

A laugh escaped Legolas. "Nay, it rains. Mithryn, listen. You must come with me."

She rose, instantly concerned. "You are distressed; what has happened?"

"It is Elmarin. Please, you must come!"

As he led her through the maze of passages, he told her of Elmarin's difficulty. Her face contorted with trepidation and fright. "But Legolas, I am not a physician! I know nothing of delivering infants! What aid can you suppose I would be?"

"In truth, I know not," he said as they stepped outside and into the rain. They ran swiftly to the Elven tower where Elmarin resided, and climbed the exterior, spiraling stairs until, at last, they reached the landing and her door.

"Legolas, this is not my expertise. I do not wish to disappoint you, but I know not what to do."

"You could never disappoint me, Mithryn," he said, grasping her soaked arms. The rain began to lessen, now merely trickling down their faces. "Fewer Elves are brought now into the world than in the past. For Elmarin, there is a danger." He looked away, slightly embarrassed; it was not polite to speak of such things. "She has passed her time of childbearing, you understand. I know you may not be able to help, but please try. This is important to all of my people."

Mithryn gazed into his strong face. "I will do all within my power."

Embracing her, he kissed her lips, wet with rainwater. He knocked on the door, and shortly an Elf-matron answered, curtsying upon sight of the prince. "There is nothing new to report, Legolas."

"How does she fare?" he asked.

The lady glanced back into the room. "I fear her strength is waning," she whispered.

"Narbeleth, as you know, this is the Lady Mithryn. She may be of assistance as she is gifted in the art of healing."

Narbeleth opened wide the door. "Pray, enter and aid as you can."

Mithryn stepped in, and Narbeleth gently closed the door, leaving Legolas standing on the landing. The room was vast, with an open balcony; Elmarin lay, restlessly, in the massive bed. Three other midwives were present, all of whom wore crisp, white aprons. Narbeleth handed one to Mithryn as well as a towel to dry herself. "Thank you," she said, gratefully accepting. Approaching the bed, she sat upon a stool next to the weak Elf. Elmarin was much altered. Her face was white as snow; all energy and willpower seemed drained from her body. Her blue eyes opened at last when Mithryn held her warm hand.

"Mithryn, you are here? How wonderfully...cool...your touch is."

"Legolas felt I might be able to assist you in your time."

Elmarin breathed short breaths, face drawn and strained. "It has been many hours. I have no strength left," she whispered. She turned to Mithryn, blue eyes turning red with despondent tears. She struggled to find the energy to say the words in her heart. "I do not want to lose my child."

Mithryn's soul was deeply touched by the sight of her beauty, her pain and her hopelessness. Suddenly, all became clear to Mithryn. "Then I shall lend you my strength." While the wise healers gazed in curious wonder, Mithryn clenched her small fist, blew a breath of warm air upon it, and opened to reveal an orb of green flame. Slowly, she moved her hand until she was palm to palm with Elmarin's, clamped tightly together.

Elmarin's eyes opened wide with new vitality. She looked over at Mithryn to see her eyes closed, mind and body focused in purpose. Narbeleth lay upon the bed, feeling the child within. "It moves," she said excitedly. The child is much stronger now." A sharp pain shot through Elmarin's body; the contractions had begun again, but she was ever careful not to break this strange electrical connection between her and Mithryn.

"The child is ready," one of the midwives said, preparing the cloth and bringing forward a large basin of warm water and fresh towels, which she placed on the table nearby.

"I have strength now," Elmarin said, gratefully gazing upon Mithryn, who was sitting as motionless as a statue.

Legolas had not returned to the Elves waiting fretfully in the grand hall. Sitting on the step outside Elmarin's door, he lingered uneasily, hardly hearing the beautiful, quiet song filling the air which many Elven ladies sang in support of their struggling sister. The rain had stopped, and the sky opened to reveal the husky glow of sunset. Abruptly, Haldof, Tarnil and Galamed ran to the stairwell. "Legolas!" they cried. He rushed down to them.

"We are sorry, Legolas, but we could find no evidence of Mithryn's trail, and Anfalas is still in her stall," Tarnil explained.

"Nay, it is I who am sorry, brothers. I found her in the Archives. She is now with Elmarin."

Each of his brothers let out an annoyed huff. "We have been running all over the kingdom for you, and you did not have the intellect to send a messenger to us?!" Haldof blasted.

Legolas was about to reply that his mind had been full of other thoughts, when his answer was interrupted with the distinct, shrill cry from a newborn babe. All heated temperaments melted away in relief, and they embraced each other for the blessed event which had just occurred. "Tarnil, go and inform Father. Galamed, you must do the same to Taranin and the others," Legolas said, and they both dashed off, on merry missions. Legolas and Haldof stood, arms about each other's shoulders, gazing up at the terrace, delightfully anticipating another sign. Soon, iavin could be heard from every quarter sounding the joyful news.

Elves rushed from the halls, Taranin in front. He bolted up the winding stair, and was welcomed by Narbeleth who swung open the door for him. The exhilarated crowd waited in breathless anticipation, staring ever upward at the balcony which showed no movement. Suddenly, Taranin stepped into view, but his face bore definite signs of concern. "Legolas," he called down to him. "You should come," he said before once again disappearing from view. A prescient silence fell over the gathering. Legolas's heart beat wildly as he bounded up the steps and into the room. At first, there was nothing alarming to be seen; Elmarin was resting peacefully in the bed, two midwives were happily bathing the newborn, and, it then struck him, that Mithryn was nowhere to be seen. Taranin suddenly rose from the floor, and beckoned Legolas to his side. As he did so, he found Mithryn sprawled unconscious with Narbeleth beside her, bathing Mithryn's face with a cool, damp cloth.

"What happened to her?!" Legolas demanded, kneeling.

"She is drained of strength, but should recover soon," Narbeleth replied kindly, handing him the cloth and leaving him to tend Mithryn. Taranin comforted his weary wife with soft words, stroking her cheek and then poured her a glass of elven tonic to aid in her recovery.

Legolas cradled Mithryn's head on his lap; her lethargic eyes opened slowly. "I fainted," she said in a soft whisper.

He sighed a breath of relief. "You did. Think you can rise?" Legolas asked, apprehensively.

"I believe so," Mithryn said, sitting up. Fatigued and debilitated, she started to fall once more, but his strong arms were already there to catch her. "I feel a trifle lightheaded," she said while attempting to make the room stop spinning.

"I think you had better return to your cabin for rest," he said, helping her to her feet and holding tight so she would not fall. Nodding her reply, he began to walk her slowly out and carefully guided her down the steps. Curious onlookers gazed at the pair, but little was said. Their attention was quickly diverted when Taranin arrived upon the terrace, proudly carrying his small daughter, Finaviel. The gathering broke out into melodious song, welcoming the new member of their kindred. All wished to gaze upon the young life that was most felicitously brought to them. It had been many hundreds of years since a child was born into the kingdom, and when one arrived, it was always a sacred, mystical event, resulting in convivial celebration and ancient ritual ceremony to welcome their new relation into their fold. Legolas had borne Mithryn away, steadying her steps with his arm clasped firmly around her waist. Opening her cottage door, he led her inside and carefully set her upon the bed, ever mindful of propriety.

"Are you certain you are well? Shall I send for the healers? Perhaps some tonic? I do not believe you recovered yet."

"Nay," Mithryn pleaded, arms holding herself up. "Rest is all I require. I simply feel...a little...frail."

Legolas guiltily looked at her. "I am sorry. It was wrong of me to goad you into such a situation; I am responsible."

"Legolas," she said, fatigued, "I am pleased to have helped Elmarin. This languor occurs when I over strenuously use my abilities. Do not reproach yourself, I beg of you. I have a will of my own, you know."

Legolas smiled, but could see her weaken. "You comfort me, Mithryn, and I shall leave you now. Thank you again, for what you did; it was most noble."

Mithryn, however, did not hear, as she fell into a restful slumber on the bed. Legolas lovingly gazed at her momentarily and carefully placed a coverlet over her before quietly exiting and returned to the celebrations.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	12. Chapter XII The Mischif Maker

**CHAPTER 12  
THE MISCHIF MAKER**

Weeks had passed and both Mithryn and Elmarin fully regained strength and health. Mithryn's actions during Finaviel's birth had been revealed to all and she was now viewed with a newfound respect. Next to her betrothed, Mithryn's closest companion was Elmarin, and it was under her supervision that Mithryn's wardrobe be filled with richly adorned gowns, all elven in style, cloth, and grace. She and Elmarin spent many merry hours conversing while the men of the royal household busied themselves with the  
responsibilities of ruling a kingdom. Legolas always made time to spend with Mithryn despite the burden of court duties. It was evident to him that his father was preparing him for the time when he would be king. Legolas could not see himself as Mirkwood's ruler, but did not complain. It was his duty and he accepted it.

Word had also spread of Legolas's betrothal, and preparations for the upcoming nuptials were already taking place with growing excitement. The festivities were expected to be of the highest order as Thranduil was sparing no expense, Legolas being the first of his sons to wed. Elmarin taught Mithryn the details and intricacies of Elvish customs, and numerous times Mithryn's emotions varied from confused to awe struck. Her Sindarin was not admirable, but she worked hard at speaking correctly and eloquently the language of her new family. Elmarin was a patient and gentle tutor.

Days grew longer and warmer with the month of May. Mithryn grew accustomed to the woods and loved exploring all of its hidden treasures and secrets. Often Legolas would go with her; they playfully chased, hid and searched for each other like children.

It suddenly struck Legolas, on one of these mischievous occasions, how much it felt as if she had always been there, by his side. He knew it was not so, and yet, her laugh, smile, and cheerful nature all seemed agelessly familiar. He dared not think of how many years this bliss would last before the inevitable. He simply refrained from putting such rueful thoughts into his mind and, instead, focused on the joy he was experiencing at that moment, consciously retaining every detail.

"Your mind is elsewhere. Where are you?" Mithryn playfully asked a withdrawn Legolas.

Upon hearing her voice, he broke free from meditation. "Merely thinking of the future, my love."

"Not too far into the future, I hope."

"Nay," he said, stroking her cheek. "Do you have any regrets, staying here, and not going to Rivendell?"

"How could I, happy here as I am? And I shall remain so long as you keep your word." An impish grin spread over her face. "And just so long as you cannot catch me!" she said, jumping up and bolting down the path. He quickly took chase and was approaching her fast when she stopped suddenly, holding out  
her right hand, palm facing him. Halting in his tracks, Legolas felt a resistance in the space in front of him, preventing him from pursuing her. "Are you using your power against me?" he asked with a note of sarcasm and humour.

"You are an Elf and, therefore, have a slight advantage over me in terms of speed. I cannot let you win all the time," she said, laughingly.

"Let me win? We shall see about that!" he replied, now struggling against the invisible force. Mithryn shrieked and ran into the palace. The force collapsed and, stumbling, Legolas quickly pursued.

Thranduil stood in his immense reception hall, hastily breaking the seal on a scroll. The Elf messenger stood patiently, waiting at a distance. Thranduil read the message over; his face showing his displeasure. Its contents did not contain comforting news. "How was Lord Elrond when you saw him last?"

"Very well, your majesty. Mithrandir had just left prior to my arrival, Lord Elrond bade me tell you."

"And do you know of Mithrandir's direction?"

Their conversation was interrupted by the exuberant laughter of Mithryn as she sprinted past the hall. Both elves stood and  
stared, somewhat shocked, as they did not hear her approach. They blinked at each other before the Messenger regained his lost thought. "Uh...I do. He was setting forth for Isengard to see the head of his order, so Lord Elrond told me."

A servant carrying a tray of food and wine stepped into the doorway and promptly collided with a running Legolas. The silver platter hit the floor with a resounding clang, showering the meal everywhere. Legolas stumbled awkwardly over the elf while apologizing profusely.

"Legolas," the king said in an authoritative tone, "come here, please." Turning to the messenger, he added, "Thank you. That is all."

The messenger bowed and made to exit, stepping gingerly around the spray of victuals on the floor, while a servant quickly set to work cleaning the mess. Legolas took one more glance down the corridor in Mithryn's direction before obeying his father's command and went to his side.

Thranduil cast his son another displeased look, saying naught.

"I am sorry, Father," Legolas said, bashfully.

The king sighed and handed his son the parchment. "Read this. As the heir to the throne, you should know these goings on as well as I."

Legolas unrolled the letter and gazed at the gracefully flowing script. "Dear Thranduil," he read aloud. "It is as we have feared. Pray keep whom you guard safe as these are uncertain times. I go now to confer with the wise. Yours in haste, Mithrandir." Legolas set the letter down, his brow furrowed in confusion. "He speaks in riddles. What can his meaning be?"

"I believe he feared the letter would be intercepted," he whispered. "In your absence, Legolas, we have discovered that the One Ring has been found."

Legolas gaped at his calm father. "Is it certain?" he asked, finally.

Thranduil took the document, rereading the puzzling words. "This letter confirms it. While you were away, he was here, as was Aragorn."

"So Tarnil told me. We have a prisoner, I know. I have seen him while the sentries take him into the wood at nightfall. Is he the prisoner which Mithrandir refers to?"

"Aye. He is Gollum for whom even you searched."

"So, that is the creature! What black deeds bind him to the Ring?" Legolas asked somberly upon hearing this news.

"Many, but to what degree, it is not known. We must be vigilant."

Apprehension filled their thoughts. Legolas gazed at his troubled father knowing there was nothing that he could do to help. "What do you think Mithrandir intends with the One Ring? Possession of it brings untold dangers that could effect all of Middle Earth. What shall be done?"

Thranduil sat in his great chair by the fire, staring into the dying embers. "Indeed, what can be done? I know not, my son, but I fear for us all."

Mithryn, meanwhile, had frolicked spiritedly along the myriad of corridors leading down into darkness. While hiding in a shadowed corner, her jovial eyes stared expectantly at the doorway, ready to leap out on the unsuspecting, pursuing Legolas. Suddenly, a sharp hiss was heard from behind. Her smile vanished, realizing she was not alone. Turning, she saw a large wooden door with thick, metal bars. Stepping closer, she hesitantly called, "Hello? Is someone there?" Her voice echoed in the vast, unlit abyss. Distinct shuffling behind the fortified door caused Mithryn's steps to cease, and her body to stiffen with fear. She stood in horror, wondering what sort of creature would require such confinement.

Two large, pale, green eyes glowed in the dank gloom between the bars of the cell. "What'sss this, my Precious? It is not an elf, no; it's not a nasty elf with bright eyesss. What is it?"

"I...I am called Mithryn," she said, stumbling over her words.

"Pr'aps it stays here and talks with us a bitsy," Gollum said, voice now sweet and silky.

"No, I really must be getting back," Mithryn said, trying to be polite but turning to leave.

Gollum let out a piteous wail which filled the enormous room and resonated loudly down the empty passages. "Don't leaves us alone! We's is always ssso alone! Stay. Stay and talks with us a bitsy. Pleeeassse?"

Mithryn's heart went out to the pathetic, lonesome creature, and yet, she was wary because of his being in a cell. Knowing Thranduil to be a wise and capable king, and trusting her intuition, she was skeptical of this seemingly helpless creature. "I suppose I can stay a moment. Why are you imprisoned?" she asked warily, stepping closer, straining to see the obscured figure through the dark shroud.

"Nasty Elveses! And nasty Man! He captures us! Yes, my Precious. We didn't do it...no...nothing!" Gollum cried, hands tightly gripping the bars. **"_Gollum!_"**

Legolas's voice echoed through the myriad of caverns that made up the palace. Mithryn turned at the call of her name. "I am called," she said. "I must go."

"No! No!" Gollum cried, his hand reaching out to stop her, but could not reach. "Do not leave us! They will kill us!"

Mithryn stopped, but heard her name again. "I must go. I will try to come again."

Gollum's pathetic wails of protest followed Mithryn as she hurried up the flight of steps, running straight into Legolas.

"Mithryn!" Legolas said. "I have been searching for you." Upon hearing Gollum's laments, he gazed at her skeptically. "Have you been down to the dungeons?"

She knew not why she said it. Perhaps it was fear of a scold, or the thought that she knew she was not where she should have been, but she quickly replied, "Nay. I got lost, you see. These passageways are a maze to me."

Immediately, Legolas softened. "I understand. But you must not go that way. It is dangerous."

Together, they walked out of the palace, and into fresh air and sunlight. Gollum's cries could no longer be heard, but Mithryn felt certain that they were continuing, still. At length, she harnessed enough courage to ask, as nonchalantly as possible, "What creature was making those cries? He was not being tortured, was he? I had supposed you Elves to be such gentle folk."

Legolas smiled, and seemed not at all suspicious of her questions. "We are gentle, to be sure, to what is wise and good. But to our enemies, we are, I like to think, formidable. To our prisoners, we are always kind, but wary."

"Then I pity those who betray your trust. Did you not mention something before concerning Dwarves?"

"That story is very old, but not forgotten. A great wrong was done long ago by the Dwarves, and forgiveness has never been given. Since that time, I fear, we have become enemies."

"Then, that creature..."

"Nay," Legolas said, smiling and wrapping her hand around his arm, "that was no Dwarf. In all honesty, I know not precisely what that creature is. But let us talk no more of him. It is such a splendid day. Shall we not walk by the lake?"

Mithryn nodded merrily, and despite her curiosity, did not venture to inquire any further. It was not until dinner the next evening that the subject of the prisoner arose again. They royal family sat conversing about stories of old when a guard interrupted, informing his lordship that the prisoner wished to go out again tonight. Mithryn's ears immediately perked up.

Thranduil sighed. "Very well, but send eight guards instead of six tonight. The moon is not very full."

The guard bowed, and marched away.

"Father," Haldof said in a warning voice, "he is where he belongs. You are too generous to that villain. Only consider if he escaped!"

Thranduil raised an indignant eyebrow. "Thank you, young one, but we are not, ourselves, savages. To our prisoners we must be kind, but careful. We are not mercenary."

Enthralled over this new mystery, Mithryn watched the conversation unfold, until she felt as though someone were watching her. Intuitively turning in the correct direction, she caught the eye of Haldof who was observing her with the most curious of expressions. Feeling as though he could see through her, she turned away, and began to study her plate, instead.

Mithryn would not see the mysterious creature again for two more days. It was upon a cold, wet spring afternoon that she found herself with naught to do. Prior to leaving for his duties, Legolas suggested that Mithryn might wish to explore the library some more, and search out a book to read by the fire. Taking a liking to his suggestion, she made her way through the enterance doors, and into the cavernous palace.

She had lost her way only once, and then finally found her way to the deserted library. She opened the door, but heard an echoing cry coming from the palace depths. There was no doubt as to who was weeping, and Mithryn's curiosity overcame her wisdom. Following the whimpers, she went back down into the gloomy dungeon.

Mithryn had tried to be as quiet as a mouse, but Gollum's ears had perked up to her soft footfalls, and his moaning ceased immediately. At first he thought her a nasty elf, but no. He crept up to the door of his cage and peered through the iron bars. It was the girl! "She will set us free, Precious," he thought wickedly, "or she will be sorry, Precious." He opened his foul mouth again, and began an outcry of agony.

Halting her steps immediately, Mithryn peered into the shadowy vault, straining for her eyes to adjust. "Hello?" she whispered softly. Too softly, she thought at first, but the prisoner's laments abruptly died.

"Who is there?" Gollum said, his voice weak and pitiful. "Do not harm us!"

"It is I, Mithryn," she said as she slowly made her way down the steps. "I will not harm you."

"You did not come!" Gollum said, his lantern eyes shining out through the bars. "Promise, you did, and keep it you did not."

"I am here now. I am sorry I could not come sooner. I had no opportunity, you see."

Gollum sighed, "Too busy, she is. Yesss, Precious. Running under tree, stars, and shadow. Being free." Another great wail escaped Gollum's lungs. "Cruel, cruel Elves! They hurts us, and starves us when we is innocent!"

"Innocent of what? What have they convicted you of?"

"We does not know!" Gollum said pitiously. "Captured we were, and beaten, yesss, Precious! Imprisoned! Never say, no they don't. Never say what our crime is. PLEASE!" he exclaimed, reaching out his gangly hand toward her. "Let us free!"

"You must understand...I cannot. The king...Legolas...they would be so angry! Perhaps I could speak to the king on your behalf..."

Gollum let out the loudest and most pathetic of all his sobs and sank to the cell floor in seemingly dispair. Feeling for the miserable wretch, Mithryn stepped up to the cell, and gazed in through the filthy bars. "I promise to do what I..." Without warning, Gollum's hand shot up through the bars, taking strong  
grasp of Mithryn's tiny wrist. His face revealed the true nature of his wicked character. Mithryn screamed in fright, and pulled away to no avail. Gollum's grip was too great. "LET US OUT!!!" he commanded.

"No!" Mithryn screamed, pulling her arm until it ached. His gruesome mouth bent down to bite her, when in a flash, her right hand flew up and the exploding force sent Gollum flying into the back wall of his cell. He dropped to the floor, whimpering wretchedly like a wounded animal. Mithryn fell also and nervously pushed herself backward until she touched the far wall. She sat there, shaking, tenderly rubbing her sore wrist  
while "_**gollums**_" resounded in the vast cave.

Suddenly, Haldof was beside her, kneeling, having bolted down the steps. "Mithryn! You should not be here!" She turned to him, trembling. Glancing at the cell where Gollum's incessant moaning surged, he quickly assessed the situation. "Come, let us away," he said, helping her rise, and walked her out of the gloom and into the light.

They did not speak as they walked, and at one point Mithryn curiously looked down at her hand to see Haldof still holding it. They stopped outside the library. He let go of her and turned to face her, his eyes full of reproach. "That was very foolish of you, Mithryn," he scolded.

"I...lost my way," she fibbed. She would have told the truth to Legolas, but to his bullying brother, she would not. However, he did not seem to believe her.

"Do not spin me such tales, for I know you have more wit than deceit. Telling falsities is something you should never do, Mithryn. It is not one of your strong suits."

She was attempting to think of a witty retort when his gaze happened to glance down at her wrist, which already showed signs of yellow bruising. "He hurt you?!" he demanded, eyeing it attentively, and picking it up to examine it more closely.

"A little; it will heal," she said moving it away. "It was my own error. Never should I have approached so closely to his cell."

"In that we both agree! This is, in point of fact, all due to a grave misjudgement on your part! What can you have been thinking of? You must have thought him put there for a purpose," he said, his tone darkening.

"What do you accuse me of? Do you suspect me of trying to free him?"

"Gollum is not to be trusted. I cannot tell you how incredibly treacherous he is. But, given what I believe has just occurred between the two of you, I do not feel you need another lesson. If you promise me you will not attempt to visit him again, I am sure I need to mention this matter to Legolas...or Father."

Humbily, Mithryn nodded, and Haldof left without another word. He irritated her exceedingly, and yet she was grateful that he was not going to tell anyone how foolish she had been.

Each night when the sun set its fiery light, it seemed to Mithryn that the Elves came alive under the starlit sky. It was their time of worship, their time of praise.

Mithryn continued to view the nightly celebrations with wonder. This night, however, the king gave an inspirational speech that had great emotional effect on the elves, but, of which she understood little. Legolas remained by her side the entire evening of which she was evermore grateful; she felt he protected her from Haldof who endlessly eyed her darkly with a furrowed brow. To Mithryn, everyone present appeared happy, and yet, she could discern an underlying sorrow in the atmosphere. "Are all here melancholy, or do I mistake?" she whispered to Legolas.

"Nay, you are very intuitive. This is a sad time."

"Why?"

"Tomorrow many of our kin shall be departing for the Grey Havens; I have told you this."

"Nay, you did not."

Surprised, Legolas turned to her. "Aye, I did."

Mithryn smiled, knowingly, and shook her head. "Nay, you did not."

"Forgive me. I cannot think how it could have slipped my mind."

"You are frequently busy with duty; I am not angry. Indeed, now it all is clear to me. They shall never return to Middle Earth."

Mithryn looked at the group of fair, pale faces all bearing smiles. Tears on these occasions were considered poor form by tradition, Legolas noted to her. All evening, small groups of people embraced, whispering together, only to break apart and form other groups. Messages in rolled parchment were passed to  
those departing. They gazed about themselves capturing the last few moments of the only home they had ever known before embarking on the greatest journey of their long lifetimes. She knew that, after the morning dawn, she would never see some of them again; it pained her as well. "Legolas had spoken sincerely," she thought. "It truly is all coming to an end."

Suddenly, Mithryn noticed a lone elf standing away from the festivities, listening with a forlorn face to the melodious tunes. "Legolas," she said, placing her soft hand on his. "Is that not Tarnil, standing alone?"

Seeing his brother leaning against a tree, Legolas nodded. "Aye, that is he."

"Do you not think you should join him? He looks greatly affected by these events. Go to him."

"You do not mind my leaving for a short time?"

"Fear not, Legolas," Haldof said, joining the pair. I shall watch over Mithryn in your absence.

Legolas smiled a greatful grin, and walked off to join his other brother. Mithryn, however, was in inner turmoil. What could Haldof have to say to her? What was his intention now? Blackmail?

"So," Haldof began. "Have you told Legolas of your little adventure?"

"Nay," Mithryn said defensively. "And you promised you would not speak either. It is of no consequence, anyway. I have nothing to hide from him. I meant no wrong."

"Then why have you not told him? Has he not seen your bruised wrist?" Haldof gazed down at her bare wrist to see no evidence at all of any assault. "What is this? More of your magical trickery?"

"It is no trickery. I heal quickly, that is all. And if you mean to tell Legolas, tell him. You cannot hold it over my head in this way. For if you do, I shall tell Legolas the truth, and how you knew about it."

"Have it your way, then. Tell him." Haldof then smiled a devilish grin, and strode on his way. Mithryn knew not what to make of him. Was he friend or foe? What were his intentions? Did he mean to banish her, or simply make her suffer? She knew one thing for certain: he would never love her as a sister.

Meanwhiile, Legolas's thoughts had been on his cheerless brother. "How do you fare tonight, Tarnil?"

"Was Mithryn concerned for me?" Tarnil asked, ignoring Legolas's question.

After a quick glance back at his betrothed, Legolas replied, "You always did have keener ears than the rest of us. Aye, she felt that you seemed slightly downcast tonight. Is it so?"

"Perhaps a little."

"I feel it as well," Legolas said as he leaned against the tall trunk beside Tarnil. "In truth, I cannot imagine ever wanting to leave here."

"And that, Brother," Tarnil said gently, "is where we differ. And perhaps where I differ from Haldof and Galamed as well."

"Of what can you mean?" Legolas said, staring into his brother's saddened eyes.

"Please understand that I tell this to you and no other, that I feel, and have for some time, the urge to depart. These woods shall forever be my home, and my heart cries at the thought of leaving them, yet, I long to see the broad vastness of the sea."

Legolas's face bore that of heartache upon hearing his brother's words. Here it was that he, who had plans never to part Middle Earth, faced Tarnil, his beloved brother, who wished to vacate it forever. "Do you intend to leave with them at dawn?"

"Nay. My heart wishes to part with them, to set sail. Yet, one thing prevents me. It, alone, is the only reason I have not yet embarked."

"What is the reason?"

"Galamed. I know that family comes before personal want, and Galamed is not ready to leave. A long time ago, when we were but children, we made an oath not to leave without the other; that is a pledge I feel honour bound to keep. When he is willing, we shall depart together. You and Haldof were always so close; thick as dwarves, Mother used to say."

Legolas laughed, in memory. "Mother; how I miss her. It would have been admirable if it had been you who delivered our messages to her. How delighted she would be to behold you and Galamed again." Legolas said, dreaming aloud. "How long have you desired this?"

Tarnil sighed, face turned downward. "It has been many years, now."

"Does Galamed know of your desire?"

"Nay, I could not tell him. He would surely consent to my desires, and refuse his own. That is Galamed; never does he wish to be a burden to any. But, nay, Legolas. Though the want is great, I will wait for him to be ready." Tarnil took one last long glance at the sad partings of the Elves before strolling away into the enveloping darkness of the forest.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think. This is a chapter that greatly changed. Last time, Legolas was the one to find her with Gollum, but I never thought his reaction suited his character. All of a sudden, it dawned on me. It WAS in Haldof's character to behave that way. I like it much better this way. Let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter XIII I Bind Myself to Thee

**CHAPTER 13 **

**I BIND MYSELF TO THEE**

While Mithryn had lived lonesome and secluded, time passed slowly, altering little with the seasons and years, much as it was with the Elves. Now, each day for her was merry, for no longer was she lonely. May was coming to an end and the birth of June was being celebrated with the much anticipated wedding of

the king's eldest son. Legolas was disappointed that some of those whom he held dear in friendship could not be present, namely Mithrandir and Aragorn. However, he understood their plight, and, like his father, was concerned for their safety. On the eve of Legolas's marriage, however, they could not have been farther from his mind for so enthralled was he with thoughts of the morrow.

Closing her cottage door, Mithryn stepped into the cloak of darkness that was the night. The air was warm and fresh, fragrant with the drowsy scent of woodland flowers. She glanced quickly about before bounding away into the depths of the wold. It was not forbidden to wander the thicket at night, far from it, in fact. Elves venerated the stars and moon and gloried in their abundant radiance. However, this night, Mithryn did not wish to be seen; Legolas had asked to meet her in secret.

At last, she reached her desired destination. Belegaladh slept, her leaves sparkling in the pearly moonlight. Mithryn turned and saw Legolas approach.

"Did any see you?" he inquired, hair shining in the pale light.

"I do not think so," Mithryn whispered, "but you Elves are so mischievous. Always up trees and so quiet; one never knows where you are."

He laughed jovially before pulling out a long band of cloth from his green doublet. "I have something to show you," he said, eyes full of mystery.

"That piece of cloth?" Mithryn asked, pointing to the strip of silk.

"No. Uh, I fear I must blindfold you."

"We are to be wed tomorrow. Do you not trust me?" Mithryn asked with large, blinking eyes, hoping to shame him into showing her his secret without the use of a shield.

Her plan worked for a moment, before he caught on to her weedily ways. "And you refer to my people as being mischievous!" he said, laughing.

"Oh, very well," she said, relenting.

He placed the silky band over her closed eyes and leaned in close to her ear. "I trust you," he whispered. Then, taking her two hands in his, he slowly led her deeper into the mystical realm of his people. Her steps came slowly but never did he allow root or stone to trip her.

"You understand, of course," she said as they made their way along slowly, "that it is dark, and I have not the eyes of an elf; I could not find my way back. So really, this blindfold is most unnecessary."

He stopped leading her and simply held her hands. "That is not the reason for your eyes being concealed."

"How much farther?" she said, beginning to become impatient.

His delicate fingers untied the shield. "We have arrived."

As he pulled away the cloth, she could not help gasping upon the sight her eyes beheld. In front of her lay a beautiful pond encircled by ancient willow trees, their drooping branches dipping into the still water. Afloat on the pond were dozens of tiny, flickering candles upon large, green leaves. The little glowing fires cast a warm, mystical glow upon the circlet of trees.

"How beautiful," Mithryn whispered in awe. "Did you do this?"

Legolas nodded as he stared adoringly at her. "It is the custom of my people. The night prior to one's wedding, the bridegroom takes his future wife here and performs an ancient, sacred ceremony."

"What kind of ceremony?"

Legolas, standing behind her, drew her close and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Each candle represents a wish, a hope for our future together."

Mithryn looked at the many floating candles. "You hope a great deal," she said, laughing. "Of what did you wish?" she asked as she turned to face him.

"Many things. Sadly, they have all slipped my mind now," he said teasingly.

"You jest! Will you not tell me?"

"Tomorrow," Legolas said, caressing her face. "I shall tell you tomorrow."

Mithryn turned and stared delightedly at the enchanting gift. "Do you believe any shall come true?"

"That is my greatest wish of all. If only one does, I shall be forever grateful. However, the ritual is not yet complete. One step remains of which only you can perform."

"What must I do?"

Legolas, taking her hand, lead her through the curtain of willow branches to the water's edge where they knelt on the cool grass. Selecting a candle set upon a large leaf, he gently handed it to her. He then reached out over the bank, attempting to grasp a floating, lit candle, when Mithryn placed a hand on his arm.

"Nay, Legolas. I do not require a light." Once again he gazed at her with fascination as she created a golden orb of flame in her hand. In the darkness, her fire illuminated their faces, lighting their eyes with fire. With masterly ability, she held the sphere, turning it slowly upside down to light her candle. When the wick was lit and glowed with radiance, another breath from her lips promptly extinguished the flame in her hand.

"I shall never tire of seeing you do that," Legolas said, impressed.

"What now?" she said, holding the leaf, beaming softly with reflected light in her hands.

"Close your eyes and make one silent wish for our future together. Take your time; we have plenty."

She did as he bade, thinking of her deepest wishes and most heartfelt desires for the time they were to share. When her greatest hopes and aspirations had been determined, she at last opened her eyes. "It is chosen."

"You have now only to set the leaf onto the water and let it sail."

Mithryn, following his instruction, gently placed the flickering candle in the cool water; they watched it as it floated away joining the other wishes and dreams. Legolas pulled her into his embrace. "What did you wish for?"

"Tomorrow," she replied, caressing his face. "I shall tell you tomorrow."

After Legolas escorted Mithryn back to her cottage, he entered the palace with spirits so high they seemed to soar. Walking past his father's study en route to his bedchamber, he heard a voice call him back from within. Legolas turned and peered into the open doorway; Thranduil stood in the dimmed room, alone.

"Did you wish to see me, Father?"

"Yes, could you come in a moment?" Thranduil asked; a look of concern was cast over his fair face.

Legolas stepped in, approaching him. "Does something disturb you, Father?"

"Son, why were you not at the banquet tonight? I noticed Mithryn there but she departed early."

"You know the reason for my absence. I am a bridegroom; tomorrow is the day of our union."

"You performed the ceremony?"

"Of course," Legolas said, now greatly confused as to his father's meaning in all these questions, for already did he know the answers. "Father, why do you question me?"

Thranduil sighed. "Son, I feel it my duty to enquire if your heart is attached absolutely to this decision to wed Mithryn."

Legolas's heart sank. His face could not hide the disappointment those words brought to his spirit. "We are to be wed tomorrow!" he exclaimed with a note of determination. "I know you have always disapproved of Mithryn..."

"Nay, I do not disapprove of Mithryn," the king interrupted.

"Is that a fact? Why else would you not wish me to marry her?!"

"Because it is dangerous!" Thranduil said, feelingly. "To bind yourself to a mortal is dangerous, my son; for you, as well as those around you. You place all our hearts at risk for Mithryn's sake."

Legolas shook his head, not allowing any heartfelt tears to fall. "Not for Mithryn's sake, Father. For my sake. I love her, and I had hopes that those around me would wish me to be happy no matter where my heart lies."

The king turned his face away and Legolas slowly walked toward the door. "Legolas..." his father bade, unable to say more.

"You have your answer, Father," Legolas said, not turning. "I shall marry Mithryn tomorrow and these discussions will cease. Goodnight." He stepped out of the room pulling the great door closed behind him.

Morning sun rose; at long last, the wedding day arrived! Mithryn was happily surrounded by handmaidens as well as great Elven Ladies, including Elmarin. They all busily fussed over her hair, gown and body in preparation for this extraordinary evening. Traditional, elaborately prepared bridal food was set out in her now cramped cottage as she was not permitted to leave upon risk of seeing the bridegroom prior to the wedding.

Mithryn was kept busy from dawn with perfumed baths, hair dressing and arranging, trousseau fittings, and gift openings, yet, all the while, anxiously waiting for the sun to set. The wedding would begin when the stars first showed their twinkling lights and not before; for Mithryn, they could not come soon enough. Hours passed with much laughing and talking when, at last, she stood amongst the fair crowd, dressed to be married. Mithryn's hair was delicately braided and twisted with curls cascading down her long, white gown. Tiny silver beads covered the gossamer dress, sparkling and tinkling slightly with every step. Set upon her head was a wreath of green leaves with fresh wild flowers. The ladies stepped back, gazing with pride at the exquisite sight which stood before them.

"Well, what say you, Elmarin?" Mithryn asked anxiously, wanting to look especially perfect for her husband to be.

Elmarin smiled, and, with eyes shining, replied, "You appear to me a very noble bride; most beautiful, wise, and equal to the task of wife to our good prince."

Mithryn sighed with relief when, suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. A handmaiden answered the caller and promptly curtsied upon seeing who stood in the doorway. She opened the door wide and King Thranduil strode in. He was most elegantly clad and Mithryn did not believe she had ever seen him dressed so magnificently. His dark, emerald robes were trimmed with a silver, elven, scrolled design and, upon his head, he wore a delicately braided, mithril crown. All the Ladies instantly curtsied, including Mithryn.

"Mithryn, my child!" the king exclaimed upon the sight of her. "What a vision you are!" Turning to the company he added, "Ladies, I thank you and compliment your work. Now, if you will but give us a moment." The Noblewomen, delighted that they had pleased their Elven-lord, paid homage once more before filing out, leaving the pair alone. Mithryn was not nervous, for she had no knowledge of Thranduil and Legolas's previous conversation. She simply gazed at him, hoping for a kind, fatherly word.

"Are you happy, my dear?" he said after a few moments of silence.

"Exceedingly, your Majesty. This is what we both have wished for. There is little more I could desire."

Thranduil stared at her then nodded. "You make him happier than I have ever seen, and there is nothing more a father wishes for his son. Ah, but I forget my mission!" he said as he pulled a long, flat box from under his robes. "Your wedding gift for Legolas arrived from Rivendell. I believe the Elven Smiths surpassed themselves. Elrond was kind enough to oversee it being crafted, the nature of the gift, being what it is." Thranduil handed Mithryn the box. Her trembling fingers opened it revealing a mithril medallion attached to a long chain. An elegant engraving of a tree was etched on one side, while on the other, read: 'The love which I hold for thee, never shall fade,' inscribed in flowing Sindarin script.

"Are you pleased? Did they follow your instruction sufficiently?" Thranduil asked.

"I am extremely pleased; it is exactly how I had envisioned! Do you think he will admire it?"

"I do," the king replied, smiling. "I believe he shall treasure it very much indeed."

Legolas, meanwhile, had been pacing about his windowless chamber in an anxious state. His three brothers were his only companions and they did little to ease his discomposure. Haldof lay on the bed, bored, staring at the vaulted ceiling while Tarnil and Galamed occupied themselves with Legolas's collection of books.

"Tarnil, pray go and examine the sky for me," Legolas said, nervously. "I long to know if the sun has set yet."

Tarnil sighed and stared at his brother reproachfully. "Legolas, I have only just returned from your mission to do thus and you shall have to wait longer until I go again. I assure you, it has not set but you shall be the first to know when it occurs."

The groom let out an exasperated huff and resumed his pacing motions. He was elegantly clothed in long, luxurious robes adorned with sparkling silver; a wreath, matching that of Mithryn's, sat upon his head. "Brother," Haldof said to Legolas, jesting, if it distresses you so, you need not wed Mithryn. There is time yet; the union may still be cast aside."

Legolas stopped his activity and glared at his brother with bright eyes from under his leafy crown. "On my wedding day, Haldof, I do not find such levity amusing."

Haldof laughed silently, enjoying his brother's discomfort and ill humour. Galamed merely rolled his eyes and returned to his book. The heavy, wooden door opened abruptly and their father and king appeared, standing in the doorway. "My sons, I am pleased to find you all together. You are, I hope, giving Legolas the support he requires before making so great a commitment."

"For the most part," Legolas replied, sending an annoyed glance in Haldof's direction.

"I am heartily glad to hear it," Thranduil said. "Now, I would ask the three of you to leave me with the groom."

Haldof, Tarnil and Galamed all rose and exited the chamber without another word. Once the door was shut, Thranduil turned to his son. "Matrimonial attire suits you, my son."

"I will only to wear it once, Father," Legolas said, unemotionally. His father's painful words, said the night before, were foremost on his mind; he did not wish for a repeated confrontation that would satisfy neither.

Thranduil sighed. "Legolas, I wish to apologize for my rashness last night. It was most obdurate of me. I do hope that on this wonderful day, you can forgive me."

Legolas's heart softened immediately. "Of course I forgive you, Father. I understand your fears and would share in them if it were one of my brothers in my place. But, my choice is made."

The king nodded and approached his son, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. "And I respect your choice, Legolas. Mithryn is an exceptional Lady. She will make an excellent Queen to these woods. Now," he said, as they sat in two mammoth chairs by the weak fire, "you have maintained your secret long enough. What is it you mean to give her as your marital token?"

Legolas extended his hand and opened it to reveal a small ring bearing a green stone. Thranduil's eyes opened brightly at the sight of the band. "Your mother's ring," he said, picking it up and holding it adoringly. "She would be pleased to know it was given with such love."

"I wish she could be here tonight, of all nights."

"No more than she wishes it, I am sure. I do not miss her any less with the passing centuries. Alas that it is the reverse. It was a mistake to allow her to leave me."

Legolas furrowed his brow. "You would have commanded her to stay?"

"Nay, you misunderstand; I should have joined her on her voyage. These woods, my home, my heart have never recovered from her absence."

Legolas stared at his father and wondered of his own heart. Twelve hundred years had passed since his eyes beheld his mother, his father grieving every day. How would his own heart fare twelve hundred years after the passing of Mithryn?

"Ah, but we must have no more woe, my son, for this is a time to be most joyful!" Thranduil said, returning his son's ring. "I know you shall be very happy with the time you share with Mithryn, regardless of the length."

Legolas smiled as he clasped the ring, dreaming of the years to come.

At last word came that the sun had set and that the remaining golden hue had drained from the darkening sky. Stars began to peak out of their shelter and glittered divinely overhead. The king and Legolas were informed by an exuberant Tarnil that all was now prepared for the wedding to commence.

Legolas strode out with his brothers and father at his side. Indeed, the courtyard glowed with mystical grandeur. Tall candlesticks were set out along the trellised isle down which Mithryn would walk. A grand arbor was erected with leafy vines and flowers entwining along its woven web. All the Elves in the kingdom were present, with the exception of those from the garrison who were patrolling the boarders.

Thranduil strode down the isle, nodding to his people as he passed, his sons following closely behind. As the king took position in the center of the circular arbor, minstrels let flow their enchanting song. Legolas took his place to the left of his father, his brothers standing statuesquely at his side; they did not have long to wait.

Elmarin appeared at the isle entrance, gracefully making her way down the flowered path. Legolas gasped when she had passed. Mithryn stood at the bowered passage, glowing with her own mystical light. Legolas gazed in complete awe at his wife to be; never, to his eyes, had she appeared more radiant or shone with such beauty. He was simply overwhelmed; his heart ached with love.

Mithryn walked slowly down the leafy path, eyes fixed unshakably on her true love. She still harboured a shred of fear that her glorious dream would burst and all would come crashing down in ruin. Yet, there she was, about to commit to her heart's only desire.

Stepping up, she joined them on the latticed bower, clasping hands with Legolas. Thranduil began to speak; his words handsome and poetic in his native tongue. Legolas and Mithryn heard naught. They gazed into each other's beaming faces, reading each other's soul. Legolas's thoughts were absorbed in the delicate beading on her dress, and how her flaming hair was complimented by the leafy crown. Mithryn's mind warmed toward the impish grin Legolas bore on his face, and noted that his eyes were filled with such tender love.

The adoring couple were both snatched out of worshipping thought when the king was made to repeat his last question. Legolas looked bashfully at his father. "Uh, aye Father," he said as he turned back to Haldof, who stood amused, and handed Legolas the ring. Legolas slipped the ring on Mithryn's tiny finger, saying, "I offer to you this token with all my love and affection through all eternity."

Mithryn turned to Elmarin who handed her the medallion. Gently holding the necklet, she repeated his same words. Reaching up, she slipped the chain over his wreath, letting it lay on his broad chest. He gazed at the shiny token, reading its tender message.

The king bade the couple to cross their wrists and hold hands. They followed his direction and he, then, brought forth a long, silver scarf. As Thranduil wove it around their wrists, Mithryn noted how ancient, and delicate it felt on her skin. When at last they were bound together, Legolas said, "With all my heart and will, I bind myself to thee, Mithryn."

She smiled, her hands tightened their grip to his. "With all my heart and will, I bind myself to thee, Legolas." Thranduil raised his hands and gloriously proclaimed them wed; intense cheers resounded far into the kingdom followed by the sound of iavin trumpets so that even the guards on duty could rejoice as well.

The king sat at the head of the long table during the feast with Legolas and Mithryn on either side. They gazed at each other incessantly during the entire meal, delighted smiles on their faces. Music played gaily, dancing commenced and tales of old were recounted by the most gifted of storytellers. Mithryn

stood conversing with a group of Elven Ladies when Legolas approached them. "I pray you will excuse us, Ladies; I must have a word with my wife." The gathering laughed as Legolas led Mithryn away into the weald.

Haldof was watching the pair with amusement. Galamed quickly strode up to him. "Haldof, have you seen Legolas? I much desire to speak with him."

"Aye," replied Haldof, pointing into the woods. "He and Mithryn have just entered the wold."

"Ah, I thank you," Galamed said, making to follow, but Haldof quickly pulled him back.

"Nay, Galamed. Legolas has waited long for this. He shall have to remember this night for a long time alone. Let them be."

Galamed nodded in understanding and they both turned and rejoined the boisterous festivities.

"My wife...how I have longed to call you that," Legolas said when they were at last in the quiet of the forest.

"How I have longed to hear it, husband." Mithryn said. Legolas smiled, leaned down, and kissed his wife for the first time. They resumed their stroll, hands clasped together. "Will you tell me now what it is you wished for last night?"

"I have already said, I cannot remember," he said, impish grin reappearing.

"Come now, Legolas. You must not tease your wife on our wedding day."

"I wished for many things," he replied, yielding. "Happiness, children, a peaceful life, but, most of all, I wished for time. I know I must be satisfied with the time you give me, but to me, it seems an unfair amount."

"As it does to me. My wish, as well, was to that very purpose: time. But we do not know what the future shall bring; let us think of it no longer. We are now together; nothing can break the bond to which we have just committed. Not even death."

He drew her close, affectionately holding his dear wife in loving embrace.

Neither of them spoke as he slowly led her discreetly around the festivities, avoiding any encounter, and back toward the Palace to a tall Elven tower, much like Elmarin's home. Gently holding her hand, they ascended up the spiralling steps to the highest door. Taking a spray of mixed flowers from the doorknob, he handed them to Mithryn as a symbol of good luck before entering the wedding abode. He opened the door for her, welcoming her in. "What do you think of it?" he asked.

Mithryn gazed around the stately room. Indeed, it was much larger and more richly decorated than hers, or Elmarin's bedchambers. Crawling Ivy covered the walls, and penitent statues stood about the room. Shelves were filled with books, and ornate carvings. An open, curved balcony filled one wall, its view overlooking the forest, while blooming morning-glories cascaded from the banister. The bed's four posts rose high up to the ceiling, gauzy fabric gently draping from its dark, wooden beams. "It is very fine!" she said at last, taking it all in.

"If you wish, this can be our chamber. Or if you would prefer staying in your cabin, I would not mind. There is also my room in the Palace if you would prefer that."

"Which would you prefer?" she asked, turning to face him. "Do you wish to remain within the Palace walls?"

"I have lived long in that room. These quarters are reserved for the Royal family and it offers slightly more privacy and light than our other chambers. However, I care not where we stay."

Mithryn gazed once more over the splendid room before replying, "I think we should stay here. A fresh start for us both, together. Do you not think?"

Legolas nodded in agreement, closing the door. "I shall have our belonging's brought up here tomorrow." He joined her, his gentle hand caressing her cheek. Mithryn shyly met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. Reaching up, she removed their floral crowns, letting them fall to the ground, carelessly. His lips met her cool forehead, and trailed softly down to her trembling mouth.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	14. Chapter XIV Secrets

**CHAPTER 14**

**SECRETS**

Following the Royal Wedding, Legolas had been relieved of his duties for a few days, and neither he nor Mithryn were seen by any, for never did they leave their chamber. Food was routinely left upon their doorstep and it was understood by all that none were to disturb the newlyweds; the king commanded it so.

During the weeks that followed the nuptials, as Legolas's responsibilities as heir to the throne resumed, he and Mithryn recommenced daily life, but now in a more euphoric state of mind. Many noticed the change in Legolas's temper as a smile adorned his face, ceaselessly.

During the feasts, the loving couple did little but gaze adoringly at each other in silence while those around them, the king included, found their conversation to be very dull; none seemed able to entice the pair out of constant worship. Haldof repeatedly told Galamed how ill he felt watching them and how he refused to speak to Legolas again until his newlywed brother spoke in a more rational manner. Secretly, however, he was pleased for Legolas; never before had he seen him so happy.

In the warm morning sunlight, Legolas impatiently waited for Galamed by the stairwell to his tower. At length, Haldof approached, but Galamed was not to be seen.

"Where is Galamed? Have you seen him, for he was to meet me, but already he is very late!" Legolas asked, perturbed.

"He has been assigned to other duties this morning. I shall be going in his stead."

The two began walking deep into the woods to the kingdom's nearest boundary. Legolas's brow was creased with confusion and ire. "What duty?"

Haldof would not meet his gaze. "I know not. What matter is it to you?"

"Galamed has been acting so strange of late. Have you not noticed? I wonder if I should speak to Father..."

Haldof stopped and quickly turned to Legolas. "You will do nothing of the sort. Let it be."

"What is all this, Haldof? What are you not telling me? Ever since my wedding, Galamed has been acting so peculiar. I demand you tell me!"

"You are not king yet, Legolas," Haldof said, resuming his pace.

"Why all this secrecy? Why are you in his confidence, and not I?" Legolas asked, following sprightly.

Haldof's pace quickened all the more. "It is not my secret to tell!"

Legolas stepped into a run, and soon the pair were racing to the edge of the boundary with great speed. Upon reaching it, they quickly stopped, chests heaving. "Does he not trust me?" Legolas asked, somewhat hurt.

Haldof shook his head. "Do not be a fool, Legolas. You have been busy. During the passing months, your eyes and mind have been distracted elsewhere." Legolas was about to rebut but Haldof interrupted. "Nay, allow me to continue. We do not hold it against you. You have maintained your duties with honour and propriety, as well as followed your heart. I am simply saying that during that time, while you were so preoccupied, things have happened."

"I am not so wholly inattentive, Haldof! I know all of Tarnil's plans, for he has told me."

"Tarnil?" Haldof said in confusion. "I speak of Galamed and not of Tarnil. He has plans? What plans?"

Legolas bit his lip. "Now it is my turn to say that his secret is not mine to share. I did not realize he had not told you."

Furrowing his brow, Haldof's mind was busy with puzzled thought. "Now I wish to speak to Tarnil."

Legolas nodded. "And I with Galamed." Simultaneously, they both turned away from the border, and with displeased faces, quickly strode back to the palace. While heading for its massive stone doors, Haldof said, "You will not find Galamed in his quarters."

Legolas stopped instantly. "Well then, where shall I find him?" Haldof stared but made no reply. "Where shall I find him, Haldof?" Legolas asked again, using a more indignant tone.

Haldof sighed, relenting. "In Hidden Valley."

"Hidden Valley? He traveled by pony? What was his errand in going so far in our kingdom? Nay, wait; I forget," Legolas said, waving his brother off. "You cannot tell me. Should I suppose him to be in any danger?"

Haldof stared long into his brother's earnest eyes. "Yes," he said at last.

"Understood. I shall seek him out." Haldof hurried into the palace and Legolas strode to his own bedchamber to fetch his weapons case.

Upon entering the stables, he found several white ponies in their stalls, as well as Anfalas. He approached the large, Rohan horse, gently petting her muzzle. "How fare you, Anfalas? Do you wish to go for a ride? I do not think Mithryn would mind if we had a run, do you?" The massive horse neighed, rearing her large head up, giving her consent. Opening the door, Legolas led her out, jumped lightly on her back, and they swiftly rode toward Hidden Valley.

Finaviel was regarded as a most beautiful baby among the elves. Mithryn, gazing at the helpless child and thinking of her long future with no end, cradled the happy child and she slowly dipped her into the basin of warm water. Elmarin sat, watching her friend bathe her small infant. "Did Legolas tell you of the tapestry?"

"Nay. Have the ladies begun work on one?"

"There is not one, but two. One is being sewn of your wedding, and the other of Finaviel's birth. Your likeness shall be on each."

Mithryn smiled warmly for she was greatly touched indeed knowing these tapestries would be held dear as historical items. She would live forever in their memories, and for some, in their hearts as well. Her full attention was brought back to Finaviel as the child joyously shrieked and splashed her arms in the water. Lifting her up, Mithryn placed her on a towel, enveloping her.

"I am truly touched," she said, returning the child to it's mother's arms.

"Indeed, I would have it no other way. You played such an important role in Finaviel's birth; that must be commemorated." Elmarin gazed up at Mithryn's face to find it, suddenly, much altered, contorting with affliction. "Mithryn?" she said, concerned.

Mithryn, however, was no longer in control. Raising her palm up to her forehead, she winced as the pain took rein. Elmarin gently lay Finaviel on the bed and rushed to her friend's aid. She clasped Mithryn's hand until a sea of calm washed over her.

"Mithryn, what is it? Are you ill? Shall I send for aid?"

"Nay, it passes," Mithryn said, softly rubbing her sore temple. "Do not worry for me. The visions come quickly, but are swift to pass."

"You had a vision? Of what did you see?"

Placing her hand over her mouth, Mithryn's brow furrowed with disturbing thought. "I fear I cannot say," she said, her eyes meeting those of Elmarin. "Pray forgive me. I do not understand what I have seen. For now, I think it best only I know this event."

"I trust your judgement, Mithryn."

"I...I must find Legolas." she said, exiting the chamber in a distressed state.

Legolas and Anfalas rode far north to the mountains that lay beyond his father's palace. Hidden Valley was a primeval place which Legolas had not seen for some time. The mountains rose high up as he approached them. Taking a pass through a gully, Legolas rode swiftly to the north side of the largest of the three mountains, Fidelis. Charging to the top of a hill, Anfalas came to a stop and Legolas gazed with skillful Elven eyes over the vast rolling landscape. In front stretched an immense, green valley, lush with sprays of wildflower and with a stream winding along its center. Trees were scarce and the extensive vale was encircled by soaring mountains.

At first, Legolas could see no sign of this brother, but the sparkle of the sun as it danced upon the water caught his eye. There, laying beside the brook, was Galamed, and two white, elven ponies grazed nearby. To Legolas's surprise, Galamed was not alone by the riverbank. Beside him sat an Elf-maiden with flowing flaxen hair which fluttered in the gentle breeze. Even at a distance, Legolas recognized her. "Anardil..." he said quietly to himself, shaking his head.

From afar, Legolas watched as the maiden leaned down, kissing his brother. Galamed drew her close and she lay on the grass beside him. There was no mistaking the nature of their relationship. Legolas turned away. Commanding Anfalas to swerve about, and feeling very much the fool sent on Haldof's merry chase, Legolas rode down the hill homeward without a backward glance.

After hours of searching her quarters, the palace halls, and the wide wood, Mithryn finally relented and hoped that Legolas would come to her. Mithryn sat at the table in their stateroom desperately trying to focus her attention upon her book, but to no avail. Relentlessly, her mind flashed back to the images in her vision; a disturbing future had been foreshadowed which she could not shake. Suddenly, the door burst open and Legolas strode in, much agitated.

"Legolas, where have you been? I could not find you and then your father sent for you and I knew not what to say."

Legolas let out an exasperated sigh, striding to his armoire, and placed his weapons inside. "I am sorry I said naught to you. I had to ride northward."

"North? For what reason?"

He merely shook his head. "Haldof...sent me off after Galamed on a merry chase. Merry for him, perhaps. I fail to find his tricks entertaining."

"Well," she replied, "I doubt you are half as angry at Haldof, as Tarnil is with you. I met with him while I was searching for you. I did not know he could become so impassioned."

Legolas winced, remembering his morning conversation with his brother. Indeed, Tarnil would be most irate with him.

"What did you do to make him so enraged with you?" she asked, perplexed.

Legolas replied by only shaking his head; no words would he say. In this instance, he knew he had been greatly in the wrong, and would soon pay for it. Well, if he had to suffer Tarnil's pique, Haldof would certainly suffer his.

"What a closed book you are today, dearest. Very well, as you wish. Listen, I do not mean to add to your troubles, but there is something very important I need to discuss."

Their attention, however, was abruptly distracted by a servant standing at the door. "I beg your pardon, Prince Legolas," the elf said. "The door was ajar."

"Nay, it is alright, Noriath," Legolas replied. "You do not disturb."

Mithryn looked reproachfully at her husband. This disruption, indeed, was disturbing for her.

"It is your father, my lord," Noriath continued. "He begs conference with thee, as well as with your brothers."

"Aye," Legolas replied. "Pray inform his lordship that I am coming."

Noriath bowed and hastily exited down the spiral steps.

Turning back to his wife, Legolas placed his hands on her sloping shoulders. She did not meet his gaze. "I am sorry, Mithryn. I fear our conversation must wait."

It was her turn to simply nod, and make no reply. He kissed her on her forehead, and strode out of the room in much the same manner as he had entered it.

Legolas entered his father's study to see him, Tarnil and Haldof already seated at the long table by the fire. Galamed was noticeably absent. Upon Legolas's arrival, Haldof's face broke out in a mischievous grin while Tarnil eyed him, scornfully.

Thranduil, however, maintained the least emotional demeanor of those present, though, he did not appear in the best of spirits, either.

"Come in, son," the king bade Legolas, who quickly took a seat beside his father. "You come at the end of the meeting, I fear. Haldof shall acquaint you with our discussion."

"Aye, Father," Legolas said, gently.

"Yes, yes. You may go, now," the king said. His three sons rose and moved to leave when Thranduil quickly called back. "Not you, Legolas."

Legolas stopped. Haldof turned to him, patted him on the shoulder and smiled wickedly. It took all of his strength not to strike a blow in return, but Legolas refrained from getting himself into deeper trouble.

When Haldof and Tarnil had left, Legolas resumed his seat. Thranduil turned to him, face stern. "Must I ask where you have been all this time?"

"I am sorry, Father," Legolas said remorsefully. "I went in search of Galamed."

"Yes, Haldof spoke of his little jest played upon you. Yet, that is no excuse for you to ignore your responsibilities. Nathuil had to replace you. It is not becoming of my sons to be lax in their duties. You, most of all!"

"Aye, Father; you are right. I am sorry. It shan't happen again."

"Pray make the effort to see that it does not." Suddenly, the door opened and Galamed entered. "I am sorry. Did you wait long for me?" he said most unwittingly.

"Aye," Thranduil said, motioning for Galamed to sit. "However, naught is to be done about it now."

"Shall I leave you now, Father?" Legolas asked as he stood, anxious to escape.

"Nay," the king commanded. "As heir to the throne, I feel you have not had enough opportunity to lead and make important decisions. You shall stay, for I am interested in your judgement as well." Legolas sat down.

"Now, Galamed," the king began. "Why did you exchange duties with Haldof? You were assigned to patrol the southwest boarder, not he."

"I did not think I would be missed," Galamed replied, anxiously.

"Yet, this is not the first instance I know of. Tell me, what is it in Hidden Valley that repeatedly draws you so far from here?" Thranduil asked. Galamed stood agape, eyes turned toward Legolas who did not seem at all surprised. "Nay, my son," the king continued when he had not received an answer. "Your brothers have not betrayed your confidence. Surely you would know that I, your father and king, would know the goings on in my own kingdom? However, I wish to hear the truth from your own lips."

Galamed nervously cast his eyes downwards, fearful to meet the gaze of any. "I am in love and have been meeting my Lady there."

"How long?" Thranduil inquired.

"Several months now. Prior to the attack on the orc camp."

"And who is this Lady that you feel you must hide from us?" the king asked.

Galamed sat in silence, either unwilling or unable to answer. At length, Legolas answered for him. "Anardil. It is Anardil."

Galamed stared at his brother in amazement; Thranduil sighed and covered his mouth with his hand. It took Galamed several moments to find his tongue. "I understand she is young, Father, but she is of age."

"Barely," Thranduil replied. "She has only, last winter, reached the age of courtship. She is too young for you, Galamed."

"I feel I ought to be the one to make that decision," Galamed replied, feelingly.

Thranduil shook his head and turned toward Legolas. "What is your opinion on this subject? As king, what would you say?"

Galamed looked beseechingly at his brother who refused eye contact with either his father or brother. "She is too young," he said at last.

Galamed gazed at his brother, hurt. "Who are to you to speak to me of this?! Mithryn being the second youngest person in our kingdom, and that did not prevent you from wedding her! How dare you adjudge me?!"

Thranduil sighed again. "You both give me much to contemplate. I shall give my opinions on these subjects, as well as others, tomorrow. Now, leave me in peace."

Quickly and quietly, the two brothers rose and exited the study. When the great oak door was closed, Galamed turned on Legolas. "Why did you not defend me? It is you he listens to! Legolas, I am your brother!"

"He asked my honest opinion if I were king and I gave it. But I am not king. It should not matter to you if I agree with your choice or not."

"But it does matter, Brother. Your opinion has always mattered, as does your loyalty," Galamed said before striding away.

Legolas exited the palace to find Haldof waiting for him neath the arbor. Legolas eyed him warily. "I do not find your games amusing, Brother. Neither did Father."

I great laugh escaped Haldof. "I am sorry, Legolas. I had no idea you would ride after Galamed as you did."

"What did you expect?!" blasted Legolas. "You led me to believe he was going into danger alone! Nay, leave me. I am in no mood for your antics right now."

Haldof shook his head. "May I remind you of all the mischief you played upon me not too long ago? It was you who placed me in some very hot water indeed, with Father! I still do not believe he has forgiven me for some. Like when I crossed the Monuath Gorge on a tight rope. Or when I..."

"Aye, but things have changed," Legolas interrupted, his face serious. "I am married now, and I have responsibilities as heir that cannot be ignored. You would not understand..."

Those last words pained Haldof. "I am not such a simpleton, Brother, to not know what your duties be! Married life has changed you, Legolas," Haldof said before backing away, and leaving Legolas alone.

Elven merrymaking recommenced, yet, neither the king nor his sons had much wish to join the festivities that night. Legolas and Mithryn retired early after dinner; being newlyweds, they were not expected to offer any excuse.

"You were very quiet tonight, husband," Mithryn said upon their entering their abode.

Legolas stood at the balcony, gazing outward. "My thoughts overcame me, I fear." Suddenly, remembering his previous conversation with his bride, he turned to see her seated upon the bed. "I am sorry, my love. You had something to tell me, did you not? It has been a most turbulent day!"

"Ah," Mithryn began. "I do not mean to alarm you, but, while you were away, I had a vision."

Legolas quickly took seat beside her, clasping her hands. "Of what did you see?"

She breathed deeply, staring into his cool, azure eyes. "I cannot tell you."

"You wished to tell me earlier..."

"Aye, but now that I have given it some thought, I do not think it wise, for I barely understand it myself. However, Legolas, I must bid you to make me a promise."

"Mithryn, these blind promises you force me to make...it is not fair. Not even you can see the whole future. It is alterable, as even you have said. Is this truly necessary?"

"It would comfort me."

"Very well, then, if it shall give you peace of mind. What is it you wish me to swear?"

"Legolas, the time may come when others you hold dear shall depart for the Grey Havens. You must promise me not to go with them."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "I do not understand. Why must I not go with them?"

"You must promise not to go with them. You shall depart when your heart bids you." she said firmly yet gently, meanwhile refusing to answer his question. "Do you promise to follow my direction in this matter?"

Legolas sighed, staring at her. "I do, if only to give you comfort, although it gives me none. I wish I could see what you have seen."

"But you cannot, therefore, you must trust my judgement."

"And I do," Legolas said, as he leaned in and kissed her. He rose off the bed and walked to the balcony again, eyes examining the clearing. Many festive Elves could he see and hear. Suddenly, something stepped out of the palace which caught his attention immediately; it was the unmistakable, hunched figure of the creature Gollum surrounded by four guards. Their bows were fully armed as they walked the beast out of the clearing and under the shroud of trees.

"Dearest, come to bed," Mithryn bade him from behind, in the shadows. Her husband cast one long glance at the guards and their captive before shedding his clothes and joining her.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter XV Revenge

**CHAPTER 15**

**REVENGE**

Night wore on and gradually the merrymaking ceased, all falling quiet in the forest. Mithryn and Legolas lay asleep in bed, their bodies intertwined around each other. Suddenly, the harsh, shrill call of iavin broke the still of the night. Legolas shook himself out of sleep. A great commotion could be heard in the clearing below.

Mithryn woke as he abruptly sat up. "Legolas, what is it? What goes on?"

"I do not know," he said while rising and pulling on his breeches. He hurried to the balcony, gazing out at the chaotic scene below. The iavin could still be heard far in the depths of the forest as elven warriors hastily massed together in front of the palace, receiving orders from their commanders. Tarnil and Galamed, armed, ran to the base of Legolas's tower and called up to him.

"What has happened?" Legolas shouted down.

"Orcs!" Tarnil cried. "They've attacked our southernmost boarder and are invading!"

Legolas swung about and completed his dressing. Glancing over at Mithryn, he saw her doing the same. She wore a pair of his breeches which were too long for her legs but which she gathered around her ankles. Just as she pulled a tight doublet over her bare chest, he exclaimed, "What are you doing?!"

"You can hardly expect me to fight in a gown, Legolas!"

Legolas stood aghast as she fastened Gilóre around her waist, and slipped on her shoes. "I do not expect you to fight at all! You could get hurt, or worse!"

"Need I remind you who saved you near my cabin? Spare me your heroics, husband," she said before striding out of the room and down the steps. Legolas snatched his weapons harness and briskly followed her. They met at the bottom of the stair. Elven women were scurrying toward the palace while soldiers charged deep into the forest; lovers made their quick goodbyes before being separated. Mithryn and Legolas watched the frenzied scene. "Mithryn, you must listen to me. This is not your fight. Please, I beg of you. Go into the palace with the others. You shall be safe there."

"How can you stand before me and say that this is not my fight?" Mithryn rebutted. "Is this not my home now? I can be of great service here, Legolas. You know that!"

He clasped her arms tightly. "It is dangerous, do you not understand? In the madness of battle, I cannot protect you."

Mithryn gazed at the massive palace doors. A sentry of ten soldiers guarded it. "What is their purpose? I had thought the doors magical?"

"They are, but Orcs can still do much damage."

"Can I not at least fight with them? How likely is it that Orcs shall come this far? Please, Legolas, permit me to do something other than sit and stitch tapestries while you are in peril. I can be of more use than that. You know of my powers; allow me to use them."

Legolas's eyes darted about the turbulent scene, a thousand thoughts flying through his mind. "If you insist, though I will worry for you," he said at last. "I would ask that you be extremely careful. I know not what I would do without you."

"I swear to do this and I hope you follow your own advice. I do not want to lose you this night."

His eyes stared penetratingly into hers before he passionately kissed her with all the distressed love he bore in his heart. Then, without a backward glance, he sprinted with agile grace out of the clearing; Mithryn watched him quickly disappear into the void.

The clearing lay eerily desolate now. She approached the garrison protecting the palace. All did she recognize, but only one did she know by name. The leader of the lethal guards was none other than Elmarin's husband, Taranin, who called out to Mithryn as she approached. "Make haste, Mithryn! The palace doors must be closed!"

"Then close them, Taranin," she replied, "for I shall not pass its threshold."

The sleek, Elven watchmen eyed her with confusion. Taranin shook his head. "Mithryn, it is not safe outside now. Pray go in with the other females."

"Nay, Taranin. I make my stand with you. It is my choice to fight and not to hide," she replied steadfast and determined.

"Mithryn," Taranin began, stepping closer to her, "I apologize for my actions, but you leave me no choice for no time do I have to argue with you. This is for your own safety." He moved closer to pick her up but her right hand flew out and, with blasting force, sent Taranin hard to the earth. He, as well as the other Elves present, stared at her with startled alarm.

Mithryn withdrew Gilóre from her sheath; the sword burst into resplendent flame. Holding it high aloft her head, she said, "If you insist, Taranin, I shall fight you. However, I think our energy would best be spent combating our enemy instead of each other. Is it still your wish to stand against me?"

Rising off the ground, Taranin scrutinized with awe the womanly warrior who stood before him. "Nay, I do not wish to feud with you. It would be an honour to fight with you at our side, and die if need be."

"Nay," Mithryn said, sheathing her sword. "The honour is mine."

The great stone doors closed and would not again open except upon explicit command from the King, himself. The guards welcomed Mithryn to their post; she took up surveillance with them, gazing with wary eyes into the murky wold.

Ever vigilant, Legolas ran with speed and intrepidity south. Clashing swords and violent cries could be heard echoing through the hot summer night. Many elven warriors were around him, each alike in dedication to duty and purpose. Legolas swiftly armed his bow and soon made use of it. Orcs were on the move northward, and his bow began to sing. A mass of menacing Orcs, mouths wide with formidable screams, approached the elves. Legolas abandoned his bow for his long sword which sliced and cut through the wall of Orcs confronting him.

A large Orc violently elbowed Legolas, catching him off-guard and sending him to the ground. Quickly rolling out of the way, he narrowly missed the razor sharp edge of the Orc blade. Legolas rose and blade collided against blade. With powerful motion, Legolas grabbed the Orc's wrist and twirled him back, twisting his arm, nearly breaking it. Pushing the great brute hard against a tree, he banged the Orc's hand against it, releasing the creature's weapon. Suddenly, Legolas's eyes gazed downward to the hand which he held fast; there were only four fingers. With sickening awareness, Legolas gazed into the grotesque face of the Orc, recognizing him as among the band that hunted him all those months past.

"What is your purpose here?!" Legolas snarled.

The odious beast laughed, displaying his mouth of rotting teeth. In reply, Legolas drew up his sword, slowly slicing the Orc's neck; black filth sputtered out. "Where is your leader?!" Legolas demanded. "Where is the beast you call Ugnúl?! I shall slice off your head if you do not tell me!"

The smile faded from the Orc's face; he could feel his warm blood ooze down his chest. "He is here as well. No telling where for certain."

"For what do you come here? Tell me!"

"You hold our prisoner."

Legolas stared long into the Goblin's glowing green eyes before finally stepping away. "Go," he instructed the beast.

The Orc turned to leave, but stopped after taking a few steps. "Ugnúl is here for another mission, as well."

Legolas gazed at him with distrustful eyes. "What mission?"

A malicious, evil grin spread across the Goblin's face, and he secretly pulled out a smaller knife. "It concerns the witch. Ugnúl knows you hide her here. He has gone in search of her. If you wish to find Ugnúl, find the witch."

Legolas's eyes shot open with horror. "Mithryn," he whispered. Without a second thought, he began running with all his strength back toward the palace.

Without hesitation, the Orc moved to follow Legolas before promptly being shot by an elven arrow. His body fell to the ground, dead. Haldof gazed down, making sure the beast was dead, and then watched Legolas become enveloped in the shroud of night.

Mithryn stood with the soldiers, eyes fixed on the grim menace positioned before them. Elven bows were armed and ready while Mithryn's hands were free. A hoard of thirty orcs or more stood at the edge of the forest, their threatening, evil eyes glowing in the darkness. In the center of the mob stood Ugnúl, tall and powerful, smiling venomously at Mithryn. "I'll lay wager," Ugnúl began, "you did not think you should see me again. Whereas I've always known we would meet once more."

Mithryn glared at the massive savage in front of her. Though she held no weapon in her hand, her fist was clenched, ready for her breath.

"Cat got your tongue?" Ugnúl smirked. "Never fear; soon I shall have it." He raised up his sword and let up a bloodcurdling roar. His soldiers followed suit, all raising their weapons and making the same bone-chilling sound.

With one motion, Mithryn brushed her fist across her mouth, blowing upon it, and instantly threw its contents at the Orc leader. A burning sphere flew from her hand; Ugnúl swung at it, hitting it with the blunt of his sword. The flaming orb collided with another Orc, and upon impact, covered the goblin in a sheet of flame. The Orc screamed wildly but his companions were not discouraged and none came to his aid. Suddenly, Ugnúl sounded the charge and they moved forward with puissant force.

Mithryn, however, was not finished. She threw up both her hands causing a more powerful blast wave than she had ever before created. The Orcs were sent flying off their feet and landed far back from where they originally stood. The Elves were quick to use this distraction; arrows soared through the night sky.

Many Orcs were slain but those not fatally injured appeared undaunted by the defense. They hastily rose and once more assailed upon the small group of Elven warriors and Mithryn. She withdrew and swung Gilóre, killing numerous Orcs with furious intent.

Ugnúl slowly approached Mithryn, filthy sword in his hand, and with a broken arrow protruding from his stomach. He lurched toward her with such loathing and hate, no injury seemed to hinder him. Preparing herself, she grasped Gilóre with both hands before he suddenly charged at her with brutal force. Ducking, Mithryn barely escaped the swinging blade. The carnage and world around them seemed to fade away as both were solely focused on each other. Mithryn served a quick kick to Ugnúl's injury; he grunted in pain, which quickly turned to sinister laughter. One gruesome hand of his was forever free, attempting to seize her. Fiercely she swung her blade, struggling to keep him at a distance, knowing that if she could just get one hand free, she could use her powers. Yet, the force of his blows prevented this; handling Gilóre required both hands.

Changing tactics, Ugnúl swung low at Mithryn's knees. Blocking his thrust, she did not see his hand move close until too late. He clenched her throat and squeezed with delight. Her left hand released her sword but no breath could she produce from her lips. She placed her hand against his temple, which sent them both flying backward, yet, his hold did not weaken. She landed atop of him, and for one moment, his guard was down. Gasping for air and Gilóre, she plunged the blade deep between his ribs. The beast cried out and his grip finally weakened. She slid off, leaving her sword in his still body. Coughing and heaving for air, she now gazed about the frenzied scene still gripped in bloody action. Fewer orcs remained, and at first, all elves seemed busy with battle. Yet, over the pile of gruesome bodies, she saw the shine of fair elven hair. She rose, still breathless, and approached the fallen elf.

"Taranin!" she whispered, kneeling beside her wounded friend. A grisly wound was in his shoulder; blood flowed through her fingers as she attempted to apply pressure. His frightened, earnest eyes bore into hers. "I feel my body weaken," he muttered softly. "I fear the blade was poisoned."

Mithryn's mind raced, for she shared that same fear. Her lip trembled; she had not the supplies needed for this manner of injury, nor was there time to collect them. "If I can simply give him some time," she thought, "perhaps something can be done." Tenderly stroking his pale brow, she smiled and calmly bid him, "Close your eyes, Taranin. You must now focus on recovering. Fear not; I shall not let you die."

Taranin followed her instructions, and lay in painful silence. Mithryn sighed; her strength was already much spent. Producing a violet orb in her tiny hand, she skillfully applied it to the wound and sat, eyes closed, in a concentrated, healing state.

Legolas, meanwhile, darted through the brush and forest, legs unable to operate at the speed his heart summoned. Seeing the clearing, he approached it hastily and stopped in shock upon the sight before his eyes. Ugnúl stood behind a seated Mithryn, his blade poised to strike. Within an instant, Legolas's bow was armed and fired, and yet, it was not fast enough. The great Orc stabbed Mithryn in the back, not a moment before the elven arrow struck his own temple.

Mithryn was ripped from focus; her eyes shot open with excruciating shock. Taranin felt the severed connection as well, and upon opening his eyes, saw Mithryn sitting with a pained expression on her face. "Mithryn?" he asked, confused as to her welfare. Only when his eyes rose above her head did he see the grisly head of Ugnúl. The Goblin fell to the earth in a large heap, his sword slowly sliding out of her back.

"Mithryn!" Legolas cried in desperation, but to no avail, for he had come too late. Watching as she slumped onto her side, he rushed to her, pulling her failing body close, his salty tears landing on her soft cheek. Blinking at him, she smiled weakly. The other elves gathered around, having repelled the orc advance and routed those remaining. With grieving faces, they bowed their heads.

Mithryn's languished hand reached up and placed her bloodied fingers to his soft face. "Shh, do not cry for me, my love. I would not have you cry for me." Her hand slid from his face and she fell into devitalizing sleep. Drooping his head and grasping her tightly, he clenched his teeth, releasing a cry of agony.

Thranduil stepped from behind the woeful elves, his eyes summing the events. "Does she live?" he asked, voice steady and composed.

"Aye," Legolas whispered, "she lives, but barely."

The king gazed at Taranin who arose with aid from the others. "Taranin, how do you fare? You have been injured?

"Aye," Taranin replied weakly, "and without the aid of Mithryn...I fear I would be here...no longer. She was healing me...when the beast struck her." He was led to a recovery room for the application of healing poultices and elven tonics.

Immediately turning to one of the soldiers, Thranduil commanded, "Fetch Narbeleth, and have her meet us in Legolas's palace chamber." The elf bolted in quick response, and Thranduil focused his attention on his son and daughter once again. "Legolas, she must be moved; no time is there to spare. Thoreiel, help Legolas carry her."

"Nay!" Legolas cried out. He rose onto his feet, holding her small, limp body tightly in his grasp. "She is my wife. No other shall carry her."

"As you wish," the king replied, and together, they moved with haste down the winding passages to Legolas's previous bedchamber. Blankets were pulled back to reveal fresh sheets, water was fetched, medicines presented, a fire lit, and Narbeleth was there to greet them. Legolas tenderly placed his unconscious, beloved wife upon his bed.

"Naturally you are permitted to stay, your majesty, but I would not recommend it," Narbeleth said calmly, wanting to aid her friend as soon as possible.

"Nay, Narbeleth," Thranduil replied. "None shall be in your way. Come Legolas, we shall wait together."

Legolas, much distraught, covered his mouth with his hand, attempting to ease the ill feeling inside him. "I wish to stay with her," he said quietly.

"Nay, son," Thranduil commanded, gently. "You can do naught for her now. Your brothers shall be returning soon. Come; we shall all wait for news side by side."

Reluctantly, Legolas obeyed. Hand on his son's shoulder, the king led him out and shut the door.

Sitting at the long oak table in his father's reception hall, Legolas knew not what to think, for his mind was a torrent of memories, fears, and realizations. In a daze, he sat hunched over, and consumed himself with contrition.

Thranduil watched his son with growing concern. Dispatchers continuously arrived, relaying news of the battle to their king. They whispered quietly, away from Legolas, not wanting to concern him any more. Upon the last soldier's departure, Haldof burst into the room, dirty and tattered from the combat. Eyeing his brother in a wretched state, he approached his father.

"I am extremely glad to see you are well, Haldof," Thranduil said affectionately. "We have some grievous losses, I understand."

"More than you know, Father," Haldof whispered. "I can find no trace of that wretched creature, Gollum, and what I did discover, disturbs me. The Orcs hunt for him as well; somehow the little deviant spoiled their plan. That did not prevent them, however, from slaying Imcamion and Nurgollion, and taking Nursarn and Maeglonde. I greatly fear for them."

Haldof waited as Thranduil took in the serious news. "Organize several searching parties to look for our kinsmen, as well as for Gollum. Have Nathuil lead them. I wish you to stay here. Your brother, I think, will need you."

"Has there been any word of Mithryn?" Haldof asked, voice lowered so Legolas would not hear.

Thranduil shook his head. "I fear the worst."

Haldof nodded in understanding, swallowed hard, and strode off to carry out his father's orders.  
Within an hour's time, Tarnil and Galamed entered and sat by their brother. Little would Legolas say to them, shocked as he was, but they were there for support and not conversation. At length, Haldof entered, announcing quietly to his father that the search parties had been chosen and sent forth. Taking a seat beside Legolas, Haldof placed a strong hand on his sorrowful brother's back. "Nay, Legolas. Have no disparaging thoughts. Mithryn is strong. I am confident she shall heal."

"Are you certain you should be saying such?" Tarnil asked gently.

"I only say what is in my heart," Haldof replied.

"She shall recover. She must recover," Legolas whispered, eyes red and worried.

Hours passed wearily. Thranduil spoke quietly with Captains and dispatchers who came and went, informing him of the status of the search and of his realm. Much damage had the Orcs caused, but their rotting corpses begot an even larger problem which now had to be dealt with.

Legolas's mood grew darker, rampaging thoughts of self blame devouring him. The ceaseless sitting and waiting proved too much for Haldof. He rose, pacing around the room in an anxious state. "Surely we should have heard some word by now!"

"Narbeleth is working as fast as she is able to cure Mithryn," the king said calmly. "When there is news to hear, we shall be the first to hear it."

Suddenly, Narbeleth stepped into the reception hall. All rose upon her entry; Legolas dashed to her side, his red, teary eyes begging for good tidings. "Please, Narbeleth, I beg of you. Does my wife live?"

The wise Elf-matron stared into his searching eyes. "Aye, Legolas. She lives."

All sighed with relief upon hearing her encouraging words. "And will she recover?" Thranduil asked.

"Aye, my Lord. I believe she will," Narbeleth replied.

"May I see her?" Legolas asked with desperation. Narbeleth nodded, and Legolas sprinted from the hall without further pause.

"Father," Tarnil said, now eased, "may I sound the call informing our people?"

The king granted his son's wish, and Tarnil and Galamed strode off now much relieved for their brother's sake as well as Mithryn's. Thranduil approached Narbeleth and grasped her delicate hands. "You know not what comfort you have brought to me, or my sons."

"I fear," Narbeleth began, "that I have not told your Lordship all."

Thranduil and Haldof exchanged glances of newfound trouble. "Ai, what is this?" the king bade. "What detail have you not said?"

Narbeleth's face was solemn. "She was stabbed, your Grace. I have examined the blade, and I believe there to be a most serious problem. When the sword struck her, it is my opinion that the tip of the sword broke off inside her. It hinders her recovery."

"Can it not be removed?" Thranduil asked, disturbed.

"Nay, your Lordship. At first, I was puzzled why the toxins were so very potent for that sort of wound. I cannot remove the shard. It is embedded too deeply," Narbeleth said, eyes staring steadfastly at her king.

"But you said she would recover," Haldof interceded.

"Aye, for a time," Narbeleth continued. "It is my understanding that she bears great power and strength. I believe it is what is keeping her alive. However, unless the shard can be removed, it will kill her. It is only a matter of time."

"How much time?" Thranduil asked.

Narbeleth thought for a moment. "Three, perhaps four winters. I do not feel comfortable giving a number. She will recover for the moment, but, it will start to debilitate her slowly. She will weaken, and then perish. Its evilness cannot be undone."

Haldof and Thranduil stood in silence, pondering the healers foreboding words. "Is there more?" the king asked at last.

"Nay, my Lord. That is the whole."

"Then you may retire. Thank you so much for your efforts."

Narbeleth bowed, and turned to leave when the King suddenly called her back. "Just one more thing, Narbeleth. I would ask that you do not repeat to anyone what you have just spoken to me. Understand? No one."

"As you wish, my Lord," Narbeleth replied before exiting the hall, leaving the king and Haldof alone.

"Poor Legolas. His heart will break," Haldof said, brow furrowed. "Do you wish to tell him of this, or shall I? I do not mind, Father."

Thranduil stood, mind focused in thought. "Nay, we shall not tell him."

Haldof gaped at his father. "Say naught to him? But, he has a right to know! Do you not think Mithryn shall tell him?"

The king shook his head. "She is not to know either," he said as he took a seat by the fire.

Staring in horror, Haldof could not contain his indignation. "But, they each have a right to know! What is your meaning in hiding this from them?!"

"Though you may not believe it, my son, ignorance is bliss. Let them share what time they have together, not brooding on what the future holds for them. They are not to know." Turning to his son, his eyes were fierce and severe. "You are not to tell them, or any other. Is that understood?"

"Is this the king's command, Father?" Haldof asked, haughtily.

"Aye, it is."

"As you bid, your Majesty," Haldof said impudently before storming out of the hall.

Legolas rushed with hurried footfalls along the myriad of corridors to the chamber that bore his wife. Once standing at the closed door, however, he was hesitant to open it and face reality. It swung open slowly, displaying Mithryn, pale and motionless, lying on his draped bed. He approached her, undone by her deathly face and struggling breath. Sitting beside her and taking her cold, clammy hand in his, he spoke her name softly, with much ache and love. Her eyes slowly opened and sparkled like glistening emeralds.

"Legolas," she whispered raspily, "you have finally come."

"I am here, my love; I am with you now. Never should I have left you," he said, chin trembling.

"There is naught you could have done. I hold you in no fault, and wish you would do likewise. If I should die..."

"Do not say such!" he replied, quick to rebuke her dooming words. A tear trickled leisurely down his cheek. "I have spoken to Narbeleth. You shall recover, I know you shall. Do not speak of things you know not. Would you leave me here so alone?"

"It is my fate," she said sadly. "Whether it be tomorrow or in a thousand years. The time will come. You must not fancy that it will not. It is possible that my death is closer, now, than we had hoped. I do not wish to leave you."

Legolas leaned over and kissed her fevered brow. His lips were refreshingly cool to the intense heat of her skin. "It is not so; it cannot be so. You must struggle to live. Promise that you shall fight for us."

She stared into his blue eyes. "I promise," she whispered.

He drew her close, cradling his frail wife lovingly against his chest and sung an ancient tune; soft and sweetly it fell on her ears. He would sit be her side throughout the remainder of that turbulent night, futilely wishing it was all a nightmare from which he would soon awake. He knew in his heart, however, that no such wish would come true. Life as he knew it would never again be the same.

**Author's Note:** Please review.


	16. Chapter XVI The Aftermath

**CHAPTER 16**

**THE AFTERMATH**

The wind wafted into Legolas and Mithryn's tower chamber causing the gauzy drapes to frolic about. Weeks had passed since the attack and Gollum's escape. Losses and damage were great and all felt the king's frustration. The disappearance of their prisoner he found particularly embarrassing and unfortunate. Search parties laboured incessantly for the little wretch, tracking him steadily south. Tarnil and Galamed were with them while Haldof remained behind organizing relief and restoration, the Orcs having caused tragic damage to families and to their fair wood.

Mithryn, however, was unaware of the turmoil surrounding her as Legolas was careful to tell her naught. Never did he leave her bedside, devotedly sitting by his weak wife day and night. Mithryn healed slowly but she was recovering and every day she grew a little stronger.

Legolas gazed with ageless eyes from the balcony onto the clearing below, watching Elves as they went about their many duties. Loath though he was to admit it, he wished he could be by his brothers' sides and aid in recapturing their treacherous prisoner. He desired to be in two places at once but refused to leave his wife.

Upon hearing Mithryn stir, Legolas swiftly went to her. Narbeleth rarely left Mithryn also, and was witness to the devout love between husband and wife. It made her secret all the more aching to bear.

"Legolas, you are forever here," Mithryn said upon seeing her husband.

"The reason being," Legolas replied, "there is nowhere else I would rather be."

"Yet, I know there is much of the battle you do not tell me. I hate to bind you here; so much work is there to be done," Mithryn said remorsefully. She knew time must be passing very monotonously for him.

"The battle is long over, my love," Legolas replied as he sat on the bed. "It is almost a month since it was fought."

"So very long?" Mithryn's brow furrowed. "How quickly the time passes. I feel much stronger, however. When may I rise, Narbeleth? I long to wander the forest once more."

"A few days more of bed rest I believe necessary," Narbeleth replied as she prepared a tea for Mithryn to consume.

"Legolas," Mithryn said, returning her attention to her husband, "I shall be safe in Narbeleth's care. Go and see your father, I beg of you. You seem pale and worn." Her hand rose, still trembling slightly, and caressed his soft cheek. "Will you not do as your ill wife bids and seek out some other distractions for a time? Narbeleth, help me to persuade him."

"I am forced to agree with her, Legolas," Narbeleth said. "Naught will happen to Mithryn in the few hours you are absent and she has shown steady improvement."

"There!" Mithryn exclaimed.

"I do not wish to abandon you," Legolas said tenderly.

"I would be a simpleton indeed, if I believed such! Nay, it would give me some peace of mind knowing your thoughts were engaged elsewhere, and that you were getting exercise in the fresh air of your woods and valleys."

Legolas exchanged glances with the two ladies; he could not deny that his heart greatly desired to do what they bade. "You are certain all is well with you?"

"Aye!" Mithryn exclaimed, pouncing on his moment of willingness. "Pray, go and labour awhile. I am no longer in danger, am I, Narbeleth?"

Narbeleth gazed into Mithryn sweet, pale face, so full of hope and life. "Nay, you are in no danger."

"Very well," Legolas said, relenting. "I shant be gone very long." Leaning down, he lovingly kissed his wife.

Narbeleth quickly averted her eyes from the private, romantic scene and humbly excused herself, expressing the need of more herbs for Mithryn's tea. Legolas and Mithryn bade their farewells before he sprightly followed Narbeleth down the spiral steps. "Pray halt, Narbeleth. May I not have a word?"

She stopped, but did not meet his gaze.

"You have been infinitely kind," he continued. "Perhaps you may tell me, for my heart is reluctant to be eased. Why is Mithryn so prolonged in infirmity? I had understood her healing abilities to be quite powerful, and yet, she tarries. I am exceedingly concerned, as she remains so very weak. Can you tell me why?"

Try as she might, she could not escape Legolas's penetrating eyes, so desperate for comfort and truth. "The wound cannot be explained," she said at last. "I am confident that she shall recover with time, Legolas. You must have patience. I have never treated one of her kind before and there are several things which are strange to me. I ask that you give her time. Rest and tender care are great restoratives."

His face relaxed as her soothing words washed over him. "You give me great comfort, Narbeleth; I thank you. I do not mind confiding in you, a wise elder, how truly frightened I was of losing her. She is a mortal; I understand her future, but it was too soon for me." He gently clasped her fair hand. "You are so very good. Thank you!"

He stepped off the stair; Narbeleth watched as he merrily conversed with passing Elves, his heart and mind much relieved. Her own mind, however, bore the full weight of such a heartbreaking secret. She knew more than any the severity of Mithryn's condition, and found being with her increasingly difficult. The king's command, however, was not to be refuted. Narbeleth would simply have to bear her grief in silence.

Legolas had searched the Royal Chambers for his father, only to find them empty. He called forth a servant, Noriath, and inquired as to the king's whereabouts. "I believe he has gone hunting, my lord," Noriath replied. "His return is expected this eventide. Shall I fetch thee a horse?"

"Nay, Noriath," Legolas replied, disliking this news. "I shall see him upon his return, thank you."

The servant bowed and returned to his duties. Legolas gazed about the grand reception hall before taking a seat by the fire. He turned, suddenly, upon hearing someone enter briskly. "Galamed!" Legolas called out, striding toward his brother. "I had thought you with the search party. Why do you return?" he asked, embracing his youngest brother.

"I act as messenger bearing the latest report on our search. Pray, where is Father?"

"Alas, he is hunting. Is it imperative? Shall I summon the guard to hasten his return?"

"Nay, do not bother. It is news that does not require urgency."

"Has Gollum been found?" Legolas asked.

"Forever do we seem behind him. He is a sly creature; I tire of tracking him. He is so cunning. Nay, I fear we are at an impasse. The wretch has led us south to Dol Guildor."

"Ai!" Legolas cried. "That is ill tiding indeed."

"We have halted at a distance, reluctant to move in too closely. I know not how, but the little beast knows our fear of that land and now has used it against us."

The brothers sat at the large table, conversing over goblets of wine. "Are you certain he moves alone and is not their prisoner?" Legolas asked.

"Nay, his tracks, and those of his other followers, cannot be mistaken. He is aloof and on his own, reluctant to be captured by either of us, I feel. The orcs are not his friends or he would be more willing to meet them."

"Then why would he travel to Dol Guildor? Surely he seeks their aid if he moves so closely to such an evil place."

"Nay, you are mistaken," a voice said. Galamed and Legolas turned to see their other brother, Haldof. Galamed rose and greeted him, and Haldof joined them at the table. "You are too quick to judge, brother," Haldof said, knowingly. "Such an elusive creature is Gollum; even the forces of Dol Guildor will have trouble catching him. He was caught once in Mordor, is that right? He shall not make the same blunder again."

"Then, why does he travel to so perilous a place?" Galamed asked.

"Because he knows we shall not follow," Legolas replied with new insight. "Now he has only one pursuer. Alas, I should have foreseen this."

The three brothers talked animatedly into the afternoon. When the topic of conversation changed to Mithryn's health, Legolas noticed a distinct withdrawal in Haldof's manner, for he turned away, avoiding any eye. Onward Legolas spoke, however, of her constant recovery, and of the happiness he felt once again of their future together. Haldof sat in silence, contributing no conversation.

Suddenly, in strode the king, clad in emerald riding gear. "Galamed! I just had word of your return. I am glad to see you thus, so comfortable after such a long journey." All his sons rose upon his entry, and greeted him. "We have some matters to discuss, I presume?" the king continued after embracing his youngest.

"Aye, Father," Galamed replied.

"And since Tarnil is not with you, I can assume it is not pleasing news." The gallant king then turned his attention to his eldest son. "Legolas! How happy I am to see you removed from your perch for awhile. How does Mithryn fare?"

Haldof winced at his father's mention of her name; it did not escape Legolas's keen eye. "She mends slowly but steadily, Father. I thank you," Legolas said cheerfully.

"And does Narbeleth expect her to make a full recovery?" Thranduil asked.

Haldof's pained eyes bore into the face of his noble father; the king, however, ignored the obstinance of his son, focussing on Legolas instead.

"Aye," Legolas replied merrily, "she says as much, which relieves me to no end."

"I am happy to hear it, my son..." Thranduil's speech was then interrupted by Haldof, raging out of the room in his usual abrupt manner when angry. Galamed and Legolas exchanged confused looks, and both noticed that their father did not seem the least alarmed by Haldof's strange behaviour.

"He was fine not two moments ago," Galamed said, perplexed.

"Do not give his moods a second thought," the king bade. When Galamed began to relay all his news, Legolas humbly excused himself and stepped out of the palace into fresh air and light. Gazing upward to his chamber where Mithryn lay, he saw the drapes billowing softly in the breeze. Tempted though he was to return to his wife, he wished to see Haldof first. As his eldest brother, he knew exactly where to find him.  
Legolas bounded silently in the forest, gratefully stretching his legs. Slowing to a walk when he approached Belegaladh's base, he peeked through the rustling foliage high overhead. Haldof sat in the mighty tree's branches, and did not appear to notice his elder brother's approach.

"What troubles you, brother?" Legolas said loudly, causing Haldof to startle and nearly fall out of the tree.

"Must you always do that?" Haldof angrily replied once he had steadied himself.

Legolas laughed and began to climb the large, gnarled branches. When at last he reached the same height as Haldof, Legolas sat on a curved branch which looked like a seat. It was his favourite branch. "Will you tell me now what angers you so? Is it me?"

Haldof shook his head, "Nay." Desperately, he tried to think of excuses to account for his rash behaviour that Legolas would believe. None could he think of.

"My second guess would be Father. Is that correct?"

Haldof thought carefully before giving his reply. "Aye, it is."

"What has Father done to deserve your censure?" Legolas asked, baffled.

"Do not ask me questions," Haldof bade, only to confuse his brother all the more.

"Ai, what is this? Haldof, this will not do. Father has said something that vexes you; I can tell. Will you not trust me?"

Haldof looked into Legolas's innocent eyes; eyes ignorant of the knowledge he and Thranduil kept. "It is not a matter of trust. I am sorry, Legolas. I...I am sorry," he said before leaping out of the tree, making a hasty escape.

Legolas had not sat long in the tree before the quiet of the forest bade him return to his beloved wife. The setting sun and the quiet walk back afforded him some time to quietly contemplate Haldof's perplexing words and behaviour. Alas, he could find no answers to the riddles laid before him. Merely a vague, nagging feeling...

He had only just set foot upon the steps which climbed up to his chamber when he was called back. Turning, he saw Galamed hand in hand with an Elf-maiden; he knew it instantly to be Anardil. He stared at his brother's chosen love with skepticism. Indeed, she was most fair with shimmering hair of sunshine gold, eyes of dark sapphires, and unwavering grace. However, over two thousand years separated the adoring pair, and there were rules to be observed among elves.

"Brother," Galamed said in greeting, "you know Anardil, of course." Legolas and Anardil exchanged dignified greetings and bows. Galamed merrily continued, "I thought it best for you to become better acquainted with her now we are to be wed."

Legolas froze, unable to hide the look of surprise on his face. Seeing his reaction, Anardil turned away. She had tried to warn Galamed of breaking such news to his brother in this manner. Galamed, of course, would not listen.

"Does Father know of this?" Legolas asked delicately, not wishing to say anything improper while Anardil was present.

"Nay," Galamed answered, "we have not told him as yet. Actually, we were hoping you could speak to him on our behalf."

"You wish me to do what?!" Legolas said in a slightly harsher tone.

Legolas's response startled Galamed. Turning toward his betrothed he said, "Dearest, would you wait for me by the arbor, pray? I shant be a moment." Anardil nodded in understanding and left the brothers to fight it out.

"Did you have to say such in front of her?!" Galamed reprimanded when Anardil was out of hearing.

"Did you have to inform me of such in front of her?!" Legolas rebuked.

"I had thought you would be happy for us, Legolas!"

"I..." Legolas hesitated. He sighed, allowing his blood to cool. "I am happy for you, Galamed. How could I be anything but happy for you. But..."

"But...but what?"

"But there are things to be thought of. Rules to be obeyed. You cannot forsake them. Father shall never allow it."

"You are one to speak, Legolas. You, who follow no rules," Galamed said, hastily.

"Now, that is unkind. I know the rules I must follow with Mithryn's fate; do not imagine it otherwise. Indeed, I am reminded everyday. Galamed, of your heart, it is not up to me to decide. I know not what you think my speaking to Father shall accomplish."

"His permission. His blessing. Pray, will you speak to him for us?"

Legolas reluctantly nodded. Galamed smiled, embracing his brother before joining his betrothed by the leafy arbor. Watching the adoring pair, so much in love, he gazed upward thinking of where his own heart lies. A golden, warm glow projected from the room which called to his very soul. Unwillingly, however, he turned away from its magnetic force and strode with heavy feet back towards the palace.

Legolas stood in silence outside his father's private study and cautiously gazed inside. Thranduil sat at his table, laden with dozens of dispatches and letters. Shaking his head, the king read the same letters over and over, desperately searching for insight.

"Father?" Legolas said quietly.

Thranduil turned to see his first born. "Ah, Legolas. Do come in. Perhaps you can offer some counsel."

Legolas walked in, taking a seat beside the mound of parchment. "What troubles you, Father?"

"As Galamed has told you, Gollum is not to be found and, I fear, will not be recovered. I have written Elrond of our attack but sent no word of our missing prisoner. I had hoped that we could recover him, and that our blunder would not be known. As it is, this error cannot be concealed."

"It is not your fault, Father. None knew of how those Orcs got word to him."

"I should have locked him in his cell and thrown away the key," Thranduil said as he rose and began pacing about the room. "We should have taken better care. We knew what treachery he was capable of, son."

"True," Legolas replied, watching his father battle inner turmoil, "however, we have not the nature to be cruel, even to our enemies. We cannot blame ourselves for the evil of others. Their actions we are not responsible for, nor the outcome which arises from them. It is grievous, to be sure, and I am loath to see Elrond's or Mithrandir's face when they hear. I do not wish to be the one to tell them such unfortunate news, and yet, I feel they will understand. We should not fear their reproach."

Thranduil stared long at his son, so ardent in opinions, and smiled. "You are cool and rational, like your mother. How I see so much of her in you." The king sat again and pushed the messages aside. "We shall wait a few weeks, and see what the future holds. Galamed is resuming the search in the morn; perhaps there is hope yet that all this will matter not. You do ease my heart, though, my son. I forget, did you come for something? Was there some interest you wished to discuss?"

Legolas thought of Galamed and the reason to which he sought his father out, but could not bring himself to speak of it. He felt in his heart he was merely searching for an excuse, but he did not care. Now did not seem an appropriate time to weigh the king down with such paltry matters.

"Dearest!" Mithryn exclaimed when her husband had at last returned. Legolas gazed upon the massive bed and joyed in seeing his wife sitting up in bed. She was alone so Legolas could not help but crawl in beside his weak wife, laying his head upon her breast. Mithryn smiled and gently stroked his hair. "Were you able to occupy your mind with other matters, dearest?" she said lovingly as he clung to her.

"For a period, as you bade," he replied. "All the while, I wished to be here, however. I should not have ventured out of doors today."

"Relieve your mind, and tell me of your day."

"Nay, Mithryn," Legolas said, blue eyes gazing on her from his pillows. "The day is done. Tonight, Middle Earth matters not to me."

"Then rest, dearest, and care not of this life for a time," she replied, softly. His eyes closed and she hummed the tune to Lúthien Tinúviel until sleep had at last come to him.

**Author's Note:** _Are you enjoying this? Then please review and let me know!_


	17. Chapter XVII Indecision

**CHAPTER 17**

**INDECISION**

The two weeks that followed brought happiness to Legolas, especially as Mithryn was up and about and moved once more with a freer spirit. Indeed, she was most glad to leave the confines of her bed. At first, her legs were weak and she tired easily. With her devoted husband to support her, however, she strengthened swiftly. The fresh air, fragrant breezes, friendly faces, and bright sunshine all contributed to her recuperation.

Mithryn, indeed, felt like her old self again. And yet, a slight tingling in her back never seemed to leave her, and she wondered if ever it would. It did not trouble her greatly, therefore, never did she complain of it. After being stabbed in the back with an orc blade, she would expect her back to tingle.

With a strong arm and a gentle hand, Legolas slowly led his adored wife along the elf path to the brook. Mithryn clasped tightly his hand and arm, all the while gazing about at the lush evidence of the weeks of summer she had missed. Warm sunlight flooded the trees, engulfing them with a golden luminescence. Birds flitted about, chirping their many opinions. The docile wind dreamily rustled the leafy trees, and soon the merry laughter of cascading water could be heard. Oh, how she had missed the wild these last few weeks!  
"Is this too much exertion for you? Indeed, you are still weak. Shall I carry you?" Legolas asked, concerned.

"Nay, dearest. I am ever gaining in strength," Mithryn replied. Fatigued, though she was, Mithryn relished being on her feet again. The freedom of mobility never felt so great.

Mithryn, at last, sat by the water's edge, allowing the sounds and earthy smells to wash over her. Legolas stood by her, eying her warily. "I do not like this," he said at last.

"Perhaps I should speak to Father. I need not return to duties today..."

"Legolas," Mithryn said firmly, "necessity has held us both back for a time, but now life must return to the way it was. I understand you still fear for my well-being; however, fresh air and peace are all that I require. I am confidant that I shall be able to return to our chamber on my own."

"I know what you say is true," he said, kneeling beside her. "Life must return from where we left it. Your recovery has allowed that," he said smiling, touching her flushed cheek. "Very well. I shant be long or far."  
Mithryn nodded and watched as he walked away, until at last, she was alone. Lying on the soft moss, her eyes gazed upwards with delight at the play of light flickering on the leaves. She lay there some time, grateful for the tranquil silence and isolation.

"Oh! I beg your pardon; I did not see you," a voice said beyond her view. Mithryn sat up directly, and saw Haldof.

"Nay, Haldof. You need make no apology for you did not disturb me. Indeed, I am happy to see you. It has been some time, has it not? Not since the night of the attack?"

His eyes shifted clumsily, hesitant to meet her soft gaze. "Aye, I believe you are right. Pray pardon my never having visited you. I was...prevented." he said, awkwardly.

"Of course," Mithryn replied, examining his strange, anxious behaviour. He appeared unable to stand still; his eyes cast forever downward in a manner so guilty. "I understand, as does Legolas. He has just returned to his duties today. Have you happened to see him?"

"Nay, I fear not. Forgive me, I...forgive me," he said before promptly bowing and strode out of the glen and down the path.

"Of course," Mithryn replied, though none heard it but herself. She was at a loss as to what she could have done or said that would offend him so. Her mind searched, but could find nothing which suggested insult. "Perhaps it is nothing new," she said quietly to herself, heart now sorrowed. "Perhaps he still disapproves of me and thought it better if I had died."

"Who would think such a horrid thing?" a gentle voice said. Mithryn looked up to see her dear friend Elmarin approaching her, babe Finaviel in arms.

"Hello, Elmarin! How nice to see you here," Mithryn said, as her friend sat beside her. Mithryn took the baby, holding her close.

"I am pleased to see you so much improved since my last visit," Elmarin said, her long golden locks tousling gently in the breeze. "Whom were you speaking of with such sadness? Surely not Legolas?"

"Nay!" Mithryn replied, emphatically. "Legolas has been wonderful!"

"Then...whom?"

Pensively, Mithryn's soft green eyes rose and met Elmarin's ageless blue pools. "Haldof," was all she could say.

Elmarin's fair face looked troubled suddenly. "Haldof? I have known him from birth, and never would he wish pain on any creature of good heart. Why would you think such?"

"Haldof has always seemed cool toward me. I had thought our relationship improving, but now it seems I supposed wrong. Understand, his demeanor does not pain me. It is Legolas who is most likely to be troubled by Haldof's feeling; not I."

"It is true that, at first, your coming here stirred many hearts," Elmarin said, her long fingers dipping into the cool water. "Your presence, and Legolas's intention, was frightening to many for he is so loved by his people. However, you have grown in your place here; this is now your home and your people. If it is true that Haldof is still worried by you, you must give him time. I am certain only good shall prevail. His nature is a passionate one, for he has always felt with the whole of his heart and was never one to conceal his emotions. Is not Legolas much the same, do you think?"

Mithryn smiled at these true words of her husband. "Aye, it is. Though, perhaps, Legolas is more apt at controlling his tongue."

The two ladies laughed, and Mithryn's worries drifted away with the blowing breeze. Elmarin's calm nature never ceased to pacify Mithryn's troubles and put peace in her anxious heart.

"How does Taranin recover?" Mithryn asked, as she cradled the sleepy Finaviel.

"All goes well now as his elven powers of recovery are strong. His injury was not as serious as yours. Though, I know to whom I have to thank for that."

Humbly, Mithryn shook her head. "Any other would have done the same in my place."

"Perhaps, but considering, as a mortal, what you sustained because of it, it was an inestimable gift. I believe many would agree with me."

Mithryn was about to refute this, when the clear sounds of iavin broke out, melodiously filling the air with excitement. "What is that?"

Elmarin's fair face betrayed no emotion when listening to every clear note of the instrument. At last, a smile filled her face. "Good tidings! The search party has returned."

"Was the mission a success?" Mithryn asked ardently.

"I cannot tell," Elmarin replied, ears listening for any news. Taking her daughter in her arms, she said, "I am going to greet them. Do you feel strong enough to join me?"

"Nay, it is a long walk and I am already fatigued. If you see Legolas, can you tell him that I returned home?"

"Do you need aid? Shall I call a servant?"

"Nay, Elmarin. I thank you. I must become independent again."

"Very well, Mithryn. I shall see you at the banquet tonight."

Mithryn rose and cautiously walked back to the palace towers. It took her a long time and she stumbled twice, but she was determined to overcome the evil that had been done to her. Ugnúl had perished while she had not, and she felt comforted that he was no longer a threat to any.

Legolas had not been far from the border when the imperious call of the iavin was heard. Immediately his actions ceased and he went to greet the travellers who had been absent, now, over a month. The search party strode with heads held high to the noisy, congregating elves, wives and loved ones waiting with expectant faces. Legolas embraced his brother, "How goes it, Tarnil?"

Sighing, Tarnil replied, "I am thankful to be in our own lands again. Though, somehow, I feel that is not what you meant."

Legolas smiled, though it expressed little joy. They brought home no prisoner. Their mission had failed.  
"Nay, we did not succeed in our purpose," Tarnil said, reading Legolas's face like a book. "It disappoints me, too. Believe that it was with heavy hearts indeed, that we turned away from Dol Guildor, though, I never thought I would desire to remain near such an evil place." He seemed to shiver involuntarily at the recollection. "None wished to return home empty handed, yet, in the end, we realized it was of no use."

"None shall think any less of you for not succeeding. We have searched before and returned without that wretched, slippery, creature," Legolas said, benevolently, attempting to raise his brother's wounded ego.  
"You are kind, Legolas, and is all well here? Tell me, how does Mithryn fare? Galamed spoke of how bravely she was recovering the last he saw her. Is it still so?"

"Aye, and I cannot express how relieved it makes me. For a while, I had never been so frightened, brother...so helpless."

Their conversation was interrupted by Galamed as he playfully attacked Legolas, so delighted was he to see him. "How wonderful a change, Legolas, not searching for you!"

Legolas could not contain his pleased laughter. Life was not the same without his brothers at his side. So long had they been together, depending on and supporting each other. Seeing Galamed quite amiable, Legolas felt a pang of guilt as he had yet to speak to his father concerning Galamed's marriage. He knew his youngest brother would inquire of this, but he was puzzled as how to reply.

"Did you miss me?" Galamed asked Legolas with an air of roguery.

"Not in the least," Legolas replied, stone-faced, which sent them all into mirthful laughter again.

"Ai, but this is no good," Tarnil exclaimed, his eyes searching the crowd. "Where is Haldof, I should like to know?"

"You know Haldof when he sinks into his moods..." Legolas said.

"Aye, some things never change," Tarnil laughed. Arms around their shoulders, the three brothers made the long walk back to the palace, stopping along the way to greet and converse with Elves welcoming the youngest princes home again. Anardil hesitantly approached and, as Galamed saw her, he ran to her, lifting her off the ground in a joyful embrace. Tarnil and Legolas watched, as did other Elves present. None would willingly bestow disapproval on the Prince, but his actions did not please. For now, they chose to ignore the lovers' behaviour and go about their business.

Tarnil and Legolas calmly waited for Galamed. "He has spoken of no one else the entire time we were away," Tarnil whispered. "We all grew quite tired of it, but there is no discouraging Galamed if he has an idea in his head."

"I know that rightly enough," Legolas said, blithely.

Turning, Tarnil's face grew serious once more. "How is Father? Have you spoken to him on Galamed's behalf?"

Instantly, Legolas became elusive in manner. "He is well. Nay, I have not spoken to him of these matters as yet."

It was not with reproaching eyes Tarnil beheld his brother; he merely eyed him, blinking. "Ai, that is very ill. He believes you had."

"Why should he presume that?"

"Apparently, you said you would. Honestly, Legolas," Tarnil said with sudden exasperation, "I know not his rationale. It is not with reason that he has fallen in love with a maiden less than half in age."

"Aye, but you have not been in love, Brother," Legolas said kindly, but firmly. Staring with an awestruck face, Tarnil could say naught in reply. Legolas continued at length. "When love claims your heart, there is naught can be done. Your very world can soar amongst the heavens, or sink into despair. Do I wish he had made a wiser choice? Aye, I do. Yet, who am I to condemn his choice, when my own breaks every rule of our people? Nay, Brother. I once was thankful it was not for me to decide, but, now, I am thankful it is I he has chosen to fight for him."

Pensively, Tarnil eyed Legolas. "That is what you must say to Father, if you wish to win him over for Galamed."

"Truly?" Legolas asked, a smile creeping onto his face."Aye," Tarnil said, mood lightening. "You are quite the speechmaker, Brother, for one who says so little."

"Nay, Tarnil," Legolas said as they resumed their walk. "You flatter me, but I am not loquacious, nor have I ever been. I know not what kind of king I shall make..."

"You shall make an excellent king," Tarnil said, reverently.

Smiling, Legolas could not help but be touched by those feeling words. "Enough," he commanded, finally. "I shall never be king if Father thinks it was I who delayed you. Come! We shall seek him out at once!" Tarnil nodded, and they called Galamed away from his amorous reunion. Together, the three strode with hastened step toward the palace and their father.

The brothers had found their father and delivered their report. It was as King Thranduil had believed and feared, and naught was there to do but welcome the weary warriors home with open arms. A feast was ordered for the night's merriment but the elven chefs had already set a rapid pace in the kitchens at news of their kinsmen's return. Legolas had hoped to linger and beseech a private conversation with his father on Galamed's behalf after their family conference, but Thranduil wished to be alone to complete the weighty tasks of the kingdom, and Legolas did not refute. He knew the disappointing news of Gollum had greatly added to this burden.

It was not until he and Mithryn prepared for the evening that he spoke openly of his reluctant behaviour for the first time with complete honesty.

"So, Galamed believes you have already spoken to your father?" Mithryn asked as Legolas laced up her silken gown.

"Aye," Legolas replied, eyes fixed on his task. "I had not the heart to tell him otherwise."

"Legolas, it has been several weeks. What prevented you from keeping your word?" Mithryn inquired gently when his task was completed.

Staring into eyes that empathized completely, Legolas whispered, "I am uncertain. She is so very young, Mithryn..."

"Surely she is not younger than I?"

"Nay," Legolas said, allowing a laugh to escape him, "but in Elven years, she may as well be. It simply is not done, Mithryn. There is a tremendous gulf between them. He is such a gentle creature. I confess, I worry for his amiable heart. I know not what her nature is..."

"Perhaps you should learn. She may be all that you would wish for your brother. Love has brought them together. For whatever reason or cause, love has chosen them for each other. Why do you not allow them to make their own choice, as you have done?"

Legolas began to pace in an anxious state. "It is not the same."

"I do not think it very different. If their love does not hold the test of time, then that shall be their grievance, not yours. If it be a mistake, it is not yours by supporting their choice. Allow them to make such an error if they wish it. Perhaps it shant be so. Not all is sweet wine and honeysuckle in this life. We must learn from all the choices we make. You cannot feel their hearts. Perhaps it is real. Would you wish to keep them apart if you knew their love to be genuine?"

Transfixed, Legolas stared across the balcony, but thought only of his wife's words. He could not deny that all she said was true.

"Legolas?" she called him, softly. He did not move, and she went to him, gently placing her hand on his firm back.

He turned, eyes meeting hers. "It should be you who speaks to Father, not I. You would do Galamed justice."

"Perhaps. However, he has appointed you with this task." She ran her hand along his firm chest, the soft, delicate velvet caressing her palm. "Say all that is in your heart. The rest is out of your hands." He nodded, fingering her fiery curls. "Now come!" she bade, pulling him toward the door. "We shall be late, and not at all well looked upon. This is to be a night of our returning warriors adventure stories, and happy comradery; not lamenting of what the future may hold. Let us be merry and think no more of it. Speak to your father tomorrow when he is in lighter spirits."

"Aye," Legolas replied, taking her tiny hands, and following her out the door.

Music and song filled the night air as Elves conversed over their plates of mutton and sweetmeats. Laughter and merriment were plentiful, the king himself being quite contented, once again having his four sons and Mithryn at his table. The thought of Gollum's escape still nettled him, but he cast it aside that night for the stars were in their glory and all seemed not so ill as he had first feared. "Perhaps his escape shall account for naught," Thranduil thought to himself as he saw his fair sons chatter and make merry. "Perhaps Gollum's troublesome days are done. Perhaps the enemy has caught him and put his wretched life to a close. That at least would be an end. I pity that miserable creature, but I do not love him. His death would cause me no heartache. Perhaps, then..."

The king was forced from his deep thought when the music and gaiety abruptly ceased. His eyes surveyed over the sea of faces, all focussed toward the same object. Following their gaze, he saw Mithryn, bent over and in visible distress. Legolas sat at her side, hand on her arm, and whispered soft words of concern which she did not appear to hear. Several short, gut-wrenching cries escaped her, and all fell silent, waiting helplessly. Soon, the torture seemed to pass within her, and once again, Thranduil saw her leafy green eyes open, though now red with pain and tears.

Mithryn gazed at all the concerned and frightened faces about her. Suddenly, she felt so small, and her heart ached within her chest. "I am sorry, your Majesty. I hadn't meant to disturb this merry night. Pray forgive me."

"Not at all, you still have not fully recovered. No apologies shall I hear or accept for there is no cause for any. Indeed," the king said, now addressing the assemblage, "allow the music and merriment to continue once more. How kind for all to be concerned for her welfare. She is much recovered. Play!" Thranduil commanded, and the musicians struck up their chord and music again resounded merrily through the wood. Elves followed order, resuming conversations, but found it difficult to recommence old subjects.  
"Mithryn," Legolas whispered, "you are ill. Do you wish to return to our chamber?"

"Nay," Mithryn said, mind reeling. "However, a walk, I believe, would help greatly. Pray, cannot we go and find some peace? My head pounds so..."

"As you wish," Legolas said, helping her rise. Many eyes watched curiously as the pair made their way along the path, deep into the woods, the king included.

It had not taken them long to escape the boisterous melodies and curious eyes. Mithryn was thankful to be away from both. She had not been gazed at with such speculation since her arrival, and it did not comfort her. However, her humiliation at the scene she had caused was nothing compared to the horrendous vision in her mind. They sat at the base of Bellegaladh in silence.

At length, Legolas could stand neither her afflicted expression nor the stillness any longer. "Mithryn, will you not tell me what happened? Is your wound troubling you again?"

"Nay," she said, replaying the images in her mind's eye repeatedly. It was all too dreadful to be true. Nevertheless, to her knowledge, her visions had never been wrong. It was this new revelation that caused her the most grief. She knew what the future held, and felt utterly helpless against it. Tears welled and spilled over her cheeks.

Unable to see his beloved wife so grieved, Legolas clasped his arms around her, wishing he could bear her pain. "Mithryn, I do not mean to distress you, but pray tell me!" he beseeched, heart desperate to give her some relief and bear her pain.

Mithryn merely shook her head; her body now trembling with her rasping breath. "I cannot. I am sorry, my love. I simply cannot."

Legolas gazed at her helplessly, frustrated at his inept ability to restore her. "If I could, I would say and do all that is required to put your fears at ease. Tell me what to say, Mithryn. I beg of you. What should I do?"  
"Just hold me," she asked. Again, he drew her close, though he knew it was not enough.

**Author's Note:** _Did you like? Then, please let me know!_


	18. Chapter XVIII The King's Edict

**CHAPTER 18**

**THE KING'S EDICT**

The weeks following the vision at the dinner table were worrisome for Legolas, especially. Mithryn now seemed bereft of all life. Rarely now did she eat or sleep, so consumed was she within herself. It was not without effort that Legolas pleaded and reproached her into maintaining daily activities. He grew quite distressed, and at last beseeched his father for help.

"She is so altered since the vision, Father," Legolas said in the the king's massive greeting hall, as the fire cast ghostly, dancing shadows along the barren back wall. "I know not what to do."

Thranduil leaned on the fireplace mantle and studied his son. "Are you certain she had a vision and it is not her injury causing her repeated grief?"

"Nay, at first I thought as much, but after some coaxing on my part, the truth was revealed. It was a vision, but that is all she would share. I know not what she saw or what doom is in our future. Whatever it is, I am fearful for her. It devours her. Cannot you command her to tell you? I believe if she were to only tell someone, her turmoil would be eased."

"Legolas, I know your heart is in the right place, but never would I command any to do such. I may be king, but I am not a tyrant."

Legolas sank into a chair and stroked his smooth brow. "I know what you say, and as king, I would never do what I just asked of you. But, I am at a loss. She is withering so..."

The king gazed at his son, and thought of the pain that was in his future. Never should he have allowed this marriage to take place, and his son is, even now, showing the anguish of its effect. "And so will we all," he thought.

"Father..." Legolas hesitated, as if unsure of how to proceed, "may I ask you a question?"

Having chosen a chair in close proximity, the king sat and took a sip of wine. "Of course, my son."

Breathing softly, Legolas plucked up the courage within. "Galamed has asked me to speak to you on his behalf. He wishes to marry Anardil."

"Aye, I was wondering when you were going to come to me with this. You have taken your time, have you not?"

"I could not willingly endorse what I did not believe. However, in watching them these past weeks, I have since changed my mind. They should be allowed to marry. I realize now that it was never my decision to make for them," Legolas said, steadfastly.

"Rightly spoken, my son. That decision unfortunately falls to me. Your feelings do you credit," the king said while rising, "but, I shall never allow that marriage to take place." Thranduil strode out of the great hall, ending the discussion. A few moments passed as Legolas pondered his father's words before following sprightly.

"Why?" Legolas asked, when his father had been met.

"Need I remind you of our rules, Legolas?"

"But how can you say such? You agreed to cast them aside for my marriage. Cannot you do the same for Galamed?"

"Nay, I have my reasons," Thranduil said sternly as he stood in the doorway to his private study. "You will understand one day, Legolas, when you are king." With that, Thranduil shut the door, and Legolas was left alone in the empty corridor.

That night, gloom and a cool dampness filled the palace, and all were forced to sup indoors due to a torrential rainstorm. A roaring fire was lit, but did little to lighten the mood at the royal table. All ate heartily, with the exception of Mithryn who merely picked at the food on her silver plate. Once again, she seemed lost in thought and worries. Legolas looked imploringly at his father, hoping desperately that the king would see what was plain to all. Mithryn was in inward torment and urgently required aid.

Thranduil gazed at his daughter-in-law now as if for the first time in many months. What he saw alarmed him greatly. Sitting at the table, she appeared no more than a thin, frail creature, barely touching her food. Dark hollows hung beneath her eyes; it was evident that sleep had been neglected also. Her once bright and sparkling eyes now seemed clouded and grim. She moved with extreme effort, the king noticed, and those actions came slow and forced. "A! Elbereth!" Thranduil said in his mind. "Could it be that this vision she has seen is of her own demise? Surely that would be enough to greatly distress any."

With tired, sad eyes, Mithryn gazed up at her husband's ever youthful, ever beautiful face. Legolas saw her anguish, as did Thranduil. It was evident to the king that she stared at her husband with eyes which knew much of the future. Indeed, he would have to talk with her now, and ease her pained heart.

The following evening, Mithryn was summoned to the king, much to Legolas's relief. Mithryn made the journey to King Thranduil's private study with reluctance, though she was puzzled as to why he required audience with her. However, she dared not ignore the summons.

Her soft footfalls echoed in the chilly corridors of the palace as she slowly made her way to the king's study. Knocking faintly, she heard the clear voice of Thranduil call out, "Enter." Pushing open the great, wooden door, she stepped into the darkened room.

The king sat at his elegantly carved table, reading over his mounds of parchment. The fire was dying on the hearth, and his glass showed but a hint of the wine it had not that long ago contained. Thranduil's brow furrowed at his activity and he did not take notice of her.

Mithryn stood there a few moments, waiting to be addressed, not wishing to impose. Fatigue came upon her quickly, however, and she was forced to speak. "My lord, you sent for me?"

At last, the king raised his head, and smiled upon sight of her. "Ah, Mithryn," he said, rising and taking her thin hands. "Do sit down, my dear. The air has turned cold. Ah, and my fire is dying," he said as he tossed two logs on the hearth. "Some wine? Would you care for some?"

"No thank you," Mithryn replied, shyly.

"Pray forgive this heap, my dear. I have been very busy as of late, deciding the best coarse of action." Thranduil sat in his ancient chair, eyes cast upon the rolls of correspondence.

"What is your trouble, your majesty?"

"I am greatly concerned for a friend of mine. It has been some time since I have had word from or of him; I fear the worst. Of course, I know not for certain, but in these dark and treacherous times, one cannot be too careful. This, I have learned the hard way, you understand."

Mithryn blinked at the great king, so noble as he sat on his engraved, Elvish chair. Indeed, she did not know his meaning, but could not pluck up the courage to say such.

A laugh escaped him. "But I did not call you forth to hear my grumbles, my dear. These woes are not your trouble. Nay, I have another concern that you can aid me in."

"I, Sir?" Mithryn asked, surprised.

"Aye, you. You, and you alone. I have noticed you greatly altered as of late."

Mithryn froze upon hearing his words. She knew what he would ask, but felt she could not bring herself to tell him. However, he was the king. She could not go against his command. "It is true that I have been slightly under the weather in weeks past, my lord. I hope that I am improving."

"You did not appear to be improving last night at dinner."

Mithryn's eyes were cast down, reluctant to meet the king's gaze. Guiltily, she stared at her lap.

"My dear," he implored, "will you not tell me your burden? I am the king. Can I not somehow ease your sorrow? Will you not give me that opportunity?"

Her mouth, however, was closed tight, and would not answer, not even the king.

"Of course, I can command you tell me..." he said, with a coldness in his voice. Immediately her eyes shot up, staring now with fear and trepidation into the king's icy blue eyes. "Of course," he added, "I could never do such a thing," and the ice melted in his look.

Mithryn opened her mouth to speak, but alas, the words would not come. Thranduil waited with anticipation, but regretfully, once again her mouth closed. She would not be influenced.

Thranduil sighed, "So be it, my dear. I shall not force you. Know that if ever you wish to talk, forever will I be available to hear you without judgement. You need have no fear; your secrets are safe with me." He spoke with such softness, and gentle kindness, that Mithryn wished the words would leap out, but still they refused. "Thank you, my lord," she merely replied with heartfelt thanks as she turned to leave.

The king once again turned back to his documents. "Alas, this Gollum mishap cannot be concealed any longer. Elrond must be told. How reluctant am I to tell him, however. I suppose it is our fate that he escaped."

Mithryn stopped in mid-step, and turned around. "Do you believe in fate, my lord?"

"Indeed, I do. I have witnessed much in my long life, my dear, and believe there to be a cycle surrounding all life. So it is with fate. We each have our place in this universe, for good or evil. I only hope that righteousness is in our destiny, and that we shall prevail. Now, if you'll forgive me my dear, Legolas will be needing this letter to Lord Elrond."

"Legolas...Is he to deliver it?"

"Aye, he is," Thranduil said as he started composing his letter.

Mithryn stood by the door, unable to move. The soft scratching of the king's quill and the faint crackle of the fire were all that her ears heard. Twirling, tumbling, cascading were the thoughts in her mind, battling against what she knew in her heart.

Thranduil turned when he realized Mithryn had never left the room. She remained strangely statuesque, as if caught in some meditating snare. "Mithryn, what is it?"

Ever so slowly, she turned her head and faced the noble king; a tear crawling down her calm face. "My lord, could you not send Legolas on this mission?"

The king was slightly taken back, and failed to hide his surprise. "Why, pray? Is it you do not wish to be separated? I can appreciate that to two young lovers, but his absence will be brief, I assure you."

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Nay, that is not the reason."

"Then, why?" Suddenly, the king's eyes narrowed in perception. "What exactly did you see in your vision, Mithryn?"

"I saw...I saw all the horrors of this world. I saw chaos, and agony, brutality, and senseless violence. I saw...I saw...Legolas."

"Legolas?" Thranduil said harshly as he rose abruptly out of his seat. "What of Legolas?"

"There were a myriad of flashes, my lord; too numerous to mention. Fast and furious like a gale. Ever did he seem surrounded by peril, in dark caverns, as well as in endless fields...great fortresses and mighty cities."

Thranduil stood in thought, attempting to make sense of her ominous tellings.

"But, I feel it incumbent upon me to tell you what else I saw." Mithryn's whole body seemed to shake, feeling the most powerful fear and torment she had ever known. "A gate, tall and black. So much evil emanated from it," she whispered in her trembling voice.

"The Black Gate? You have seen it?!"

Nodding, Mithryn replied, "Is that it's name? I knew not. There was a host of soldiers making a stand against Orcs and foul beasts. Legolas was amongst them."

Thranduil sat, dazed. "You are mistaken," he said at last, voice firm and resolute.

"Nay, there is no mistaking what I saw," she said, quietly.

"You are mistaken!" Thranduil thundered, causing Mithryn to jump. "I know not what nightmare you had, but I fear your mind has been deceived.

Swallowing, Mithryn shook her head. "Respectfully, your Majesty, never have I found error in my visions. It is true. The battle is coming. And Legolas is in peril."

Burying his face in his hands, Thranduil could not escape the truths he knew were in his heart. The One Ring has been found. Warriors from Mordor were indeed rising up for a stronger battle than ever before in Middle Earth. Reports of aggressive orc activity were before him. Warfare was brewing and could no longer be ignored. "The end is neigh," he thought to himself.

"I am sorry, your Majesty. I have been battling this long. I know how you must feel, for I share in your concern. I do not want to lose my husband to such a death, as death it must be against such a foe. Is not my right to protect him? Must he go to Rivendell? Destiny shows he will go, but cannot we alter fate with our own actions? Do not send him to Rivendell, I beg of you!"

Thranduil raised his crimson eyes to gaze at his son's wife. It was evident how pained she was to bear such foreboding and ominous tidings. Inwardly, the great king battled fiercely. Should he allow his eldest, and heir to his throne, to walk blindly into such doom? "I am torn. You give me much to think of. It is my decision to make, you realize. If I let him go, I shall be sending my son to his death. However, who am I to judge in these matters? I must seek guidance." Sighing, the king resumed, "I must think this through. Errors are made in haste. Yet, whatever my decision be, to send him or keep him, you must vow never to speak of this with him. Understand that my decision is final, and you must from here on, remain silent in all that you know."

"As you command, your Majesty."

Thranduil nodded. "Now, you may leave me." Mithryn moved to the door, but was at once called back. "Mithryn," he said, "thank you for speaking plainly with me. How you must have suffered."

Unable to find the words to express her own gratitude, she merely bowed her head, and left the king to ponder the future of his eldest son.

A spent rainfall let its last droplets descend to the earth. Legolas stood at his promenade, gazing outward, anxiously searching for any sign of Mithryn. He did not have long to wait. Stepping out of the palace gate, her eyes rose upward, meeting those of her fretting husband. Wasting no time, he sprung down the twined steps and darted to her side. "Did you see my father?" he asked, eagerly.

"I have."

"And are you eased?"

"I am," Mithryn replied, heart breaking inwardly.

"Then, that is all you need tell me," Legolas said before wrapping his powerful arms around her weakened body. "Are you hungry? Shall I send for food?"

"Aye," Mithryn replied, noticing for the first time how ravenous she felt. "Food would be splendid."

Smiling, Legolas led her back into the palace. A wave of relief washed over him, cleansing out his worries and anxiety. Once again, he had his beloved wife returned to him.

The remainder of the night had been spent with the lovers wrapped in each other's arms. Both had longingly desired the warmth and security that was to be felt only in marital bliss. As hours passed into the night, Elves sang in glorious harmony, worshipping the stars, and Legolas and Mithryn reaffirmed their undying devotion to one another. It was with tender rapture that they rested naked and entangled upon the bed.

"What delight it is to have you in my arms again," Legolas said softly.

"I know I have held you at a distance these past weeks," Mithryn admitted. "It was wrong of me; forgive me."

"Never do you need ask forgiveness from me. Indeed, you have done nothing that requires pardon."

Consoled and relieved, Mithryn reached for and kissed her beloved husband, trying with desperate might to forget her conversation with the king and the possibility of Legolas leaving her side. A sudden knock upon the door brought her mind back to reality.

"My lord," a voice called from behind the closed door, "I do not wish to disturb thee, but His Highness has called and requests conference with thee."

"Tell my Father that I am coming," Legolas bade loudly, and the servant could be heard departing. Turning back to Mithryn, he said, "Of all nights for my father to summon me! And at such an hour! However, do not move. I wish for you to remain in bed until I return to you." Mithryn nodded her reply and watched her husband dress. "I shant be long," he said, blowing her a goodbye kiss and exiting the room.

"Ah, Legolas, there you are," the king said, welcoming his son into his study. "Come and take a seat."

Legolas gazed at his father with a somewhat perplexed expression on his face. "Not that I mind conversing with you, Father, but what is the urgency that requires this late night discussion?"

"I am sending you to Rivendell," the king replied matter-of-factly.

"Rivendell? For what purpose?" Legolas asked, astonished.

"I have an urgent letter for Elrond which you must deliver."

"Why must I deliver it? Things have only just improved with Mithryn and I. Cannot Taranin deliver it? Or perhaps Haldof?"

"Nay, I wish you to be the bearer. That is my final word."

Legolas was wise enough to refrain from badgering his father on the subject further. He simply sat confused and annoyed. "If it is what you command, Father."

"It is," Thranduil replied, "And you need be in no rush to return. No doubt you will have much to see and do in Rivendell. How long has it been since you were there?"

"Nearly three hundred years, I expect."

"Then you will certainly be requiring an extended visit with the House of Elrond. I am certain he will expect it of you."

"May I bring Mithryn? She has never seen Rivendell."

"Nay, I think it best that Mithryn remains here. She is still recovering. Also, the roads are dangerous now, and no place for a lady. You will travel with two guards." Thranduil clasped his eldest in a tight embrace. "Take care, my son, and return to us safely."

Legolas was puzzled to find such utter concern and worry in his father's eyes. It was evident that he knew more than he was revealing. Thranduil handed him the scroll he was to deliver to Lord Elrond.

"When am I to go?" Legolas asked, baffled.

"Within the hour," Thranduil replied.

"Within the hour?! But it is the middle of the night! Might I not set off in the morning?"

"You will not reach the Old Forest Road until morning when it is safe, so have no fears. Now, you had best prepare and say your farewells. I shall meet you again before you set out."

Legolas left his father's company dazed and bewildered. His demeanor did not alter when he returned to his chamber to find Mithryn packing his weapons and clothes. Gazing at her, he declared with certainty, "You know what is going on."

Guiltily, Mithryn nodded. "Do not ask me questions I cannot answer, Legolas. Know that I know where you go and why. Let us leave it at that."

"That is not good enough!" Legolas bellowed, detesting being left in the dark.

"But it will have to do," Mithryn replied, obstinately.

Legolas knew he would budge neither his father's nor Mithryn's steel dispositions, and ceased his begging. "Very well. If you think it best I do not know, then I know I cannot make you tell me."

"Thank you, my Love. It eases my heart to know that you do not fight me on this measure."

It was nearly an hour after the two guards had been sent for that Legolas stood again by the stairs. A groom held his horse, stocked with weapons and provisions. A few Elves were awake in the early morning hours and joined the king and Mithryn in saying parting words to their Prince and kindred.

"Fare thee well, my son. May you return safely to us soon," Thranduil said, embracing his son one last time.

Legolas jumped on his pony, and after steadying his mount, gazed down at the loving face of his wife. Without words, for there were no more words to say, he simply bent down and kissed her with all of his heart. Precious seconds slipped by, until at last, no more time could be spared. Without looking back, the trio reared and charged forward. Thus, began Legolas's long journey to Rivendell.

**Author's Note:** _Please Review!_


	19. Chapter XIX Rivendell

**Chapter 19**

**Rivendell**

Daylight waned, and all grew dark with the velvety night of the world. At the foot of the Misty Mountains, Legolas and his two companions momentarily rested, as traveling thus far had been no strain on any. Mirkwood's northern lands were their home, and they passed it swiftly on their radiant steeds.

As he sat, raising his eyes higher and higher up the ridge, Legolas stared at the outline of the tall, jagged mountaintops. It had been long since he had last made this journey to the great Elven city of Rivendell. How long ago and distant did his memories seem to him, though, little could he think of it as Mithryn had been foremost on his mind. Since meeting her, never had they been apart so long.

Hesitantly, a fair haired guard clad in green approached the solemn Prince. "My lord, I am sorry to disturb you," he said, almost in a whisper, though they were quite alone.

"Nay, you do not disturb me, Arasarn. What is it?" Legolas asked sleepily, as though waking from a dream.

"Shall we let free the ponies and begin our ascent, or, perhaps you wish to wait for the morn?"

"Nay," Legolas said, rising. "You are right. The rocks are becoming too treacherous. We should be on the move. The sooner we depart, the sooner we return," he said, approaching the horses and whispered soft, Elvish words to them. The three ponies perceived their master's instruction, trotted down the slope to graze in the valley, and wait beside the mountains. There they would stay until their masters' return.

The three companions resumed their arduous journey over the Misty Mountains. The High Pass entailed deep snow, fervid winds, sheer, narrow precipices, and vertiginous altitudes. Only Elves could survive such a journey. However, it was the quickest, though most precarious, path to Rivendell.

Onward and upward they travelled, stopping only for short rest periods. The sharp, bitter wind did not hinder them, though squalls of snow thwarted visibility. After two days of steady climbing, the crest had at last been reached. As the wind sent swirling snow dancing around them, a dying sun broke through the illuminated clouds. The three Elves, shrouded with snow, stared out from the highest peak in Middle Earth, and with every glance, saw a world full of splendorous glory. They did not wait long on the summit, however, and slowly began their descent westward to the warm, verdant lands of Elrond's kingdom.

"Ah, trees at last!" Arasarn exclaimed when a forest had been reached. Legolas and his other companion, Manlos, chuckled at their friend's utter relief upon the sight of swaying trees.

"You missed that familiar sight, did you, Arasarn?" Legolas teased.

"Aye. I never feel calm in open meadow, nor in barren valley. I crave leaf and branch!" Arasarn said while gently touching the rough bark of an elm.

Grinning, Legolas replied, "I understand you! The forest is indeed the only place for me, and it is under the treetops of Mirkwood where my heart lies. What say you, Manlos?" he inquired as they strolled.

Manlos' eyes lifted pensively to the rustling leaves, filled with sunlight and scented breeze. "Alas, I crave the wood no longer. The sea has, at last, called to me. I long to hear the cry of the gull and the ever changing music of the sea."

Legolas and Arasarn stopped in their stride, staring at their companion with questioning faces. "It has summoned you?" Legolas asked when their walking resumed.

"Aye," Manlos said, quietly, "though I have been averse to leave this Earth, for I know I shall not return. How sad it is, that we are all departing, never to return..."

Legolas stared at the ground as he walked, immersed within himself. Indeed, it was difficult to imagine Middle Earth with his friends and loved ones all departed away. Never before did he really believe that the Age of Elves was coming to a close. But now, a creeping, ominous change was in the air, and nothing was certain for any who walked Middle Earth's lands.

"Halt!" a voice commanded through the trees. Legolas and his escort followed order, standing perfectly still whilst their eyes roamed the trees in search of fine faces. Soon, a tall, graceful form stepped out from behind the large bole of a tree, eyeing the newcomers with curious interest. He was clad differently from those of the Mirkwood Elves. His uniform was silver-grey and heavily embroidered. Legolas admired this cavalier Elf at a distance.

"So, our kindred to the north conveys another message from King Thranduil," the Elf said. "Good. Lord Elrond has been waiting for such a letter. I am Lómëril, Captain of the guards in the East. May I enquire your names?"

"I am Legolas, eldest son of King Thranduil. These are my companions, Manlos and Arasarn."

"Legolas?!" Lómëril exclaimed with a bow. "It has been long since the king's sons graced our fine halls. Hail, Elves from afar, Northern Cousins! Come and sup the wine and fare from our noble tables. You are most welcome here." Suddenly, more Elves come out of their hiding places and joined the group, welcoming their guests.

It was with a warmed heart that Legolas walked with his new Rivendell companions through the forest, while voices near and far rose into the dusky sky. Often his eyes rose up before the lofty trees, and he smiled, for he felt as if he almost remembered them, as distant friends. Steadily as the elf path rose uphill, the merry group came across a sight which Legolas had not forgotten. In the distance, the illuminated city of Rivendell could be seen in all its glory.

"Now, that is a sight I never tire of," Lómëril said quietly. Legolas agreed, but expressed no words, for the views were too beautiful to be expressed. He did not feel adept enough with words to describe all that he felt in his heart.

"Come," Lómëril said after a few moments of peaceful gazing. "If we move with haste, we shall reach Rivendell by nightfall. We must not miss Lord Elrond's feast!" High in the ancient trees, iavin sounded their clear, heraldic call, telling all those in the city who was coming.

It was with much enthusiastic joyfulness that the troupe continued on their journey, singing songs, and telling tales. Legolas enjoyed himself thoroughly, and only twice did a frown come upon his face, when he thought of Mithryn. He had already been away for what felt like an eternity to his heart. Of course he wished to see the magnificent Rivendell, but his heart resisted with Mithryn far away in Mirkwood.

"What ails you, Friend?" Lómëril said, noticing Legolas's sorrowful face. "Surely you do not resent visiting our great home?"

"To be sure, I look upon Rivendell as being one of the most beautiful places in Middle Earth," Legolas said, ashamed that his new friend had seen him in low spirits.

"Then, why such sorrow? What could grieve you so, coming to a place you hold dear?" Lómëril said, as jovial Elven voices sang.

"I left behind my wife and my heart in Mirkwood. We are newly married, and I was hesitant to leave her," Legolas replied.

Lómëril responded by laughing uproariously. Legolas could do little but stare at the Elf's impudence. "In love! Of course, I should have known and recognized that look of melancholy! But fear not, Prince Legolas. Your stay with us will be brief and, once again, you shall find yourself in your true love's arms."

All the world soon sank into darkness and, alike to friendly faces, the stars glistened and sparkled with everlasting charm. The Elven party walked on and soon came to the city limits where familiar elven songs of welcome could be heard.

"Prince Legolas," Lómëril said, "Lord Elrond will no doubt wish to see you. Come with me. Your kinsmen shall be shown to their quarters."

Legolas followed the Rivendell guard, while his eyes gazed wondrously at the dazzling kingdom. Richly carved buildings peaked out from under trees and sat nestled beside streaming waterfalls. Long, winding terraces stretched from tower to tower, connecting the whole city as one. In the pale light of the stars and full moon, a soft glow emanated from the city, and candles and lamps flickered in bedchambers and great halls of old. "I had forgotten," Legolas whispered, not knowing the words had escaped his lips.

"Forgotten what?" Lómëril inquired.

"How beautiful Rivendell was. It has been long..."

Feeling there were no more words to be said, the pair continued their journey up a winding stair to the second floor terrace, and Lord Elrond's grand hall.

"Pray wait here, Prince Legolas," Lómëril said before quickly leaving him alone on the curving promenade. Entranced by the radiant sight, Legolas did not notice the soft footfalls behind him.

"Ho, ho!" an old, cheerful voice bellowed. "And what Mirkwood Elf would be in these parts?"

Legolas turned, and saw neither elf nor man, but the sight of an elderly child. "Do I know you, Friend?"

"I should say so!" the little creature said emphatically. "Bless me, it has been seventy-seven years, in fact, but I never forget a face. I was, after all, your uninvited guest for a time, as were my Dwarven companions."

Promptly, Legolas face beamed. "Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins?" he said causing the elderly Hobbit to giggle at his joke.

"Aye, it is I! Oh, time has passed, has it not? Though, one would not know it, looking at you. You elves are all alike. Old as I am for my kind, I can never compete with you."

Kneeling down, Legolas embraced his old friend. "Indeed, has it been so long?" he asked, staring at the face of one so young and nimble but a short time before, but now appeared old and withered like a leaf. A pang pierced his heart at his reminder of human frailty. Had so much time really passed?

"Aye, it would seem that time has finally caught up with me," Bilbo said. "Though, gazing at you, I feel as though it were only yesterday that I stole food from your tables, and snuck my friends out of your dungeons!" A ferocious fit of laughter came over Bilbo in recollecting his old adventures, until at last came a wave of sadness. "How I wish that I could return to your father's kingdom once more. How does Lonely Mountain look these days?"

"Alas, I can give you no answer to your query. I have not travelled that way since the Battle of the Five Armies. I would think it looks much the same since Smaug perished," Legolas answered, feeling Bilbo's sudden heavy heart. "Perhaps you will see it again."

"Oh, I fear I have waited too long for such adventures." Bilbo stood staring into the glistening sky, and suddenly seemed to forget his old friend.

Legolas was about to extend some words of comfort when they were interrupted by the returning Lómëril. Bilbo started at the sound of Lómëril's voice. "Legolas, Lord Elrond is ready to give you audience."

"Yes, yes, Legolas," Bilbo said hastily, his dark spell now fading, "Elrond is not an elf to keep waiting."

Legolas bade his farewell to Bilbo with promises to visit and reminisce old battle stories, as Bilbo called them, proud as he was. Following Lómëril into the hall, Legolas gazed around him at the high ceilings, elaborate arches, and open turrets. Gold glistened off the walls and finely carved chairs filled the room. Lord Elrond, grand and noble, rose from his fluted throne, welcoming his guest to his Realm.

An awed Legolas stepped before the noble lord, regal and wise. Elrond greeted, "It has been long indeed since we have had the pleasure of your company, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. I must say that I am surprised that my friend would send his eldest son on such a paltry mission as to deliver a letter to me. Or, perhaps I am mistaken in your visit?"

"Nay," Legolas replied, "your assumptions are true. Letters to you and Mithrandir do I carry, and it is my father's wish for me to deliver them."

"Half your mission is more easily accomplished, it seems. I am here to receive Thranduil's letter. As for Mithrandir, however, we have had no word from him for several months. You shall be forced to wait for his return, unfortunately, to fulfill that duty. If you must leave, however, I could keep the letter here for him until he arrives."

"He has still not returned?" Legolas asked, more concerned than ever for his old friend's welfare.

"Nay, and I am puzzled as to the cause. It would seem..." but Elrond's voice trailed off as his mind drifted into darkened, evil thoughts. Unexpectedly, he noticed Legolas staring, a worried expression cast over his face. "Ah, but we must fear not, Legolas. Mithrandir is a powerful wizard indeed, and enjoys disappearing and reappearing when it suits him. I think we need not fear his absence, yet."

Legolas nodded, but his heart felt otherwise.

"Now," Elrond said, "pray bring me my letter."

Legolas pulled out a long curled sheet of parchment from his doublet and, stepping closer, placed it in Elrond's elegant hand. Legolas bowed slightly and retreated to Lómëril's side. Breaking the seal and uncurling the letter, Elrond began to read, and now and then stole curious glances at Legolas. Upon it's completion, he sighed and blinked peculiarly, Legolas thought. With a furrowed brow, Lord Elrond turned and stared hard into Legolas's fair face. "How was your wife when you last saw her?" Elrond inquired. "I understand you are newly married."

"Yes," Legolas said, puzzled. "She was very well." Now, more than ever, he wondered at the contents of the letter.

"It seems you are to stay with us awhile," Elrond said. Ringing a bell, he continued. "Your room has been prepared. Are you fatigued at all? Is there anything we may offer you prior to the dining hour?"

"Your leave to walk by the waterfalls would be most welcome. I remember clearly from my previous visits as admiring them exceedingly."

"But of course," Elrond replied, graciously. "Our home is yours. Come and go where you will. I am sure it will please you to hear that my daughter is newly returned this night from Lórien. It has been long since you have seen her, is it not?"

"Arwen? Ai, yes. Long indeed," Legolas said, remembering her extraordinary beauty like no other elf he had ever before seen. "I would greatly wish to see her again."

"That is a wish I can grant as she shall be joining us for dinner. I greatly look forward to conversing with you more. There are things," Elrond said, clutching his letter, "which concern me greatly. Perhaps you may shed some light on my... interests."

"But of course, Lord Elrond. I will help as best I may." Legolas and Lómëril bowed and swiftly exited the hall.

"Come," Lómëril bade Legolas. "I shall show you to your room."

Legolas's room was a fine one indeed. Leaded windows filtered in soft moonlight, revealing colourful mosaics which decorated the curved walls. Legolas stared at the soft face of a Lady holding her young child in her arms, weeping. "What would give such a fair lady such cause to weep?" he wondered.

Soon, Lómëril had returned to bring Legolas to the much anticipated dinner. Much was to be celebrated that night. The long awaited return of Arwen to her home, as well as Legolas's arrival, had inspired gay music, happy song, and cheerful introductions. Legolas and Lómëril entered the atrium where long tables were filled with fine food and delicate crystal goblets. Elrond, dressed in formal burgundy intricately threaded with gold and a mithril circlet upon his head, approached his new guest. "Welcome, Prince Legolas, son of Thranduil, to my home, my hall, and my table. We have long missed your honoured company, and are thankful to once again have you among us, and call you friend. Welcome, Legolas."

Happy attendants applauded their lord and extended warm welcome to their distant cousins. A soft touch on his shoulder sent Legolas turning to see one certainly not forgot. A pale and creamy face decorated with sapphire eyes and ruby lips, peaked out from a bounty of raven-coloured hair, elegantly twisted and tied displaying her perfectly pointed ears.

"Lady Arwen!" Legolas said, beaming. "Your father spoke to me of your return. How are you, my old friend?"

Arwen smiled and replied, "Yes, I have only just returned this morn from my Mother's homeland of Lórien. How strange and good it feels to be here again after being so long away."

Without realizing it, Legolas's thoughts unintentionally drifted to Mirkwood, and to Mithryn. He continued to wonder, however, how long they would be apart.

His transparent gaze did not escape Arwen's sagacious eyes. A laugh escaped her which promptly pulled Legolas from daydream. "Your mind wanders, Legolas. What do you dream of this fine evening? The stars? The lonesome moon?"

"My wife," Legolas replied, mind and heart filled with the thought of her.

"Ah, yes, of course. I heard of your union. May I offer you my felicitations?"

"You may. I thank you," Legolas replied, giving her a courtly bow.

"Do I know her? I have travelled to Mirkwood but a few times. Perhaps I have met her?"

"Nay, my Lady. I think not. She does not come from Mirkwood, for she is no elf, but born of man."

Arwen stared gently into Legolas's face. "I had not known," she replied, quietly.

"Nay, I would not think it. I am by no means ashamed, but, at a time such as this...well, it is not well looked upon. Our hearts choose for us with no thought of tradition or parental blessing."

"You speak the truth, I know," Arwen said, tenderly. Inside, her own thoughts raced and questions filled her mind. Plucking up enough courage, she said, "Tell me..." but their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a guard's swift entrance into the assembly.

Stepping close to Lord Elrond, the guard whispered, "My lord, I am sorry to interrupt, but Mithrandir has just returned. I thought you would wish to see him."

"Where is he now?" Elrond enquired, hastily.

"In his room, my lord," the guard said.

"I shall be there momentarily."

"Aye, my lord," the guard replied. He strode off in haste as did Lord Elrond before suddenly stopping, turning and staring at Legolas. "Will you join me, Legolas? I believe Mithrandir would wish you present in our conversations."

"I would be honoured," was all Legolas could reply before bidding Arwen farewell, and striding off at Elrond's side to see Mithrandir at last.

**Author's Note:** _Kindly review, please._


	20. Chapter XX The Wise and the Wicked

**CHAPTER 20**

**THE WISE AND THE WICKED**

Legolas had indeed known the old wizard for a long time and had learned over the passing seasons to trust his counsel. To gaze at Mithrandir, a fool might see only a weak, old man. The wise, however, knew far better of the power and skill he possessed. Legolas knew it, which was why seeing Mithrandir so frail and tired was such a shock to him. As Mithrandir sat in a chair, sipping a flute of berry wine, his long grey hair hung limply down in his face, and his body, hunched, appeared to ache.

Elrond drew close a chair and sat beside his friend. "Mithrandir, are you well? We were exceedingly concerned as we had no word from you for quite some time." When no response came, Elrond spoke again. "What does Saruman the Wise have to say? What does he suggest we do about the Ring?"

That word snapped the old man out of his trance, and he gazed at Elrond's handsome face with knowing eyes. "His intentions are clear, my friend. Frodo! Has Frodo come?!"

"Nay, Mithrandir," Elrond said, confused. "He has not. I believed you to be bringing him. Gandalf, what has happened?"

Legolas stood at the far wall of the great room, silent and still as a statue. A fresh breeze entered, but went unnoticed.

"We have been betrayed," Gandalf said, his face ominous; a reflection of all that he felt in his heart. "Saruman has turned to Mordor. Greed, and a thirst for power are his masters now. We can no longer look to Isengard as friend, but as foe."

Elrond, stunned to silence, sat back in his chair, horrified. "This," he said slowly, "I did not foresee."

Gandalf looked up and saw Legolas engrossed, eyes large and full of feeling. "Oh!" the old wizard exclaimed, a smile for the first time appearing on his weathered countenance. "Your face was not one I expected to see quite so soon. How goes it, young Legolas?"

"I am very well, Mithrandir, but alarmed by what I have just heard. Have we truly been deceived by an ally we so trusted?"

"We have indeed, young Elf. And it could not come at a more unfortunate time!" he said, rising slowly as though his old bones were in great pain. Shaking his world-weary head, Gandalf said, "This is far worse than I could ever have imagined. Isengard so close to Rivendell and Rohan, there is no end to what wickedness and treachery are in his mind. Saruman...What a fool. I would never have guessed it."

Elrond rose. "This is grave news, Gandalf. With Saruman turned against us, and the Ring still in the wild with the Nine hunting it...The future has turned quite dark to me."

"I will agree, dark times are indeed in our future, my old friend," Gandalf said, putting his hand on Elrond's strong shoulder. "However, let us not be downcast. We know not what the next few days shall bring."

Exiting Mithrandir's bedchamber, Legolas stepped under an incandescent sky, mind filled with all that he had just heard. Stars glistened proudly overhead; yet, Legolas saw their sparkle only as the beauty of yesterday, and not the gloominess of the morrow.

The day that followed Mithrandir's return was unsettling for most Elves of Rivendell, as word spread of Saruman and the Ring. Frodo and his obligation was well circulated and were foremost on elves' minds.

Still no word had come of Frodo crossing the Ford. Legolas worried, but felt relieved when he discovered that Aragorn was Frodo's guide. There was no other, save his own brethren perhaps, whom Legolas would have felt capable of such a task.

Contemplating all these weighty matters, Legolas sat alone adjacent to a cascading waterfall, cool grass beneath him. Soft footsteps drew near and Legolas turned to see Arwen, clothed in raspberry robes with dripping sleeves made of delicate, amber lace. Soft was the look upon her face, and hesitant was she to disturb Legolas's air of solitude.

"Lady Arwen," Legolas said, rising and bowing, somewhat surprised at his visitor.

"Do I disturb your meditation?" Arwen asked.

"Nay, I am too much inside my head, I think. Company such as yours, I most sincerely appreciate."

A smile graced her charming face, and they sat silently in pleasant company. Arwen, unintentionally, cast Legolas repeated glances which did not go unnoticed. "May I be so bold as to enquire what you are thinking?" Legolas asked.

"There are questions," she replied, simply, "of which I have been reflecting. I would never request you to allow me into your confidence. However..." Her voice trailed away, and Legolas was left to puzzle her meaning.

"Have no fear, Arwen. Pray ask me anything you wish."

"I am simply astonished to learn that you have wedded a mortal."

Legolas nodded in sudden understanding. "It was by no means an easy decision to make," he replied, "and yet, I feel that there was no other decision to make. Once I gave my heart, I knew there was no going back. She is to me the beating of my own heart."

"How did your family respond to such a decision?"

"Not well," Legolas admitted, "but they too, in the end, realized that nothing would change our hearts, and so there was no more argument."

Arwen stared, transfixed, and built up courage from within. "And of the future?" she asked, hinting towards his wife's doomed fate and his own.

Legolas bowed his head; the same, old weight bearing down upon his shoulders once more. "It grieves me too much to think of it any longer. Perhaps that is unwise, but you know not of the pain that I speak."

Arwen's fair mouth curled tenderly. "Of that you are mistaken, Legolas. We are not so different, you and I. I, too, have given my heart to a mortal."

There is little else Arwen could have said that shocked him more. He sat and stared into her handsome eyes, unable to believe that the Evenstar of her people was bound to repeat the past.

"Then I am mistaken. You understand, as I do, the risks of such a choice, but cannot bear to live without your true love. And yet," Legolas's mind wandered once more to Mithrandir's news, "I know not what future we have left."

Arwen and Legolas said no more, for there was no more to be said. Both knew and comprehended how times had altered so much in recent months. They were content to sit, hope, and dream alongside the surging falls, thankful for the silent comfort of a sympathetic and understanding friend.

Two days later, a fleet-footed messenger arrived with news which heightened the spirits of many. Frodo arrived at last, though extremely ill, and feared soon dead. He came, aided greatly by the Rivendell Elven lord, Glorfindel, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Three Hobbits, alike in dignity, rambled closely behind and worried considerably for their dear friend.

The city was quite thrown into a tumult in knowledge that the One Ring had indeed emerged, and that its Bearer was in grave peril. Mithrandir and Elrond had attended him immediately, and soon spoke of his recovery which was by no means certain at present.

Legolas had not been in attendance to see the new visitors' arrival as he chose to remain active as in days past to keep his mind from over thought. Earlier, he beseeched Elrond for transient duty, and was, therefore, placed in Lómëril's authority. Legolas's hours were thus spent in pragmatic efforts and, with lively company, defending the boarders against intruders, and seeing much of the magnificent land which the Rivendell elves called their home.

Dusk soon settled upon the forest bringing starlight once again to the world. Lómëril, Legolas and the sentinel were returning from duty to Rivendell. They laughed as they walked along, merrily enjoying stories of old, as well as personal achievement made in their long lifetimes.

"I hear tale of your Mirkwood archers, Legolas. Are they as skilled as one hears?" Lómëril inquired.

"Indeed they are, Lómëril. They are not to be undone," Legolas said, proudly boasting of his people.

"Ah, but I ask you a biassed question, do I not? I might well say the same of my own archers, whom I believe to be proficient beyond reputation."

"Are they indeed? Shall we then, perhaps, settle this query with skill, rather than words?"

"A competition?" Lómëril said, intrigued. "But, who shall act for your people? You shall require an elf with a great amount of skill and accuracy. Perhaps you feel the need to send for one from Mirkwood?" Lómëril inquired, teasingly.

"I shall represent my people," Legolas replied, dryly.

Lómëril's quick laugh told true of his joke, and Legolas was swift to join in. The band of merry soldiers had just entered the gate when they were hailed from above. The soldiers raised their heads to see none other than Aragorn standing tall and proud upon an ivory terrace.

"Ho, Legolas!" Aragorn called, as he stepped lightly down the twining stairway.

Legolas smiled and strode quickly toward his friend, and embraced him when at last they met. "Aragorn! How good it is to see you! I had heard that you were sighted and shortly would be here. You look like you have had some trouble, friend."

"Aye, the Nazgûl were out in full fury, and determined to waylay us. Luckily, we encountered Glorfindel when we did. '''Tis good to be here at last."

"Have you seen Mithrandir?" Legolas asked. "I know he desired to speak with you."

"Fear not, I saw both he and Elrond upon my arrival. Come! Let us sit and drink a cup of wine to my homecoming! You have much to tell me, do you not?"

"Aye, how did you know?" Legolas asked, slightly bewildered as to Aragorn's meaning. His own thoughts flew to that of Mirkwood's failure at keeping Gollum prisoner. But, how could he know such, when in the wild for so long?

"Ah, that is my secret for the present, my friend. Come! Are you hungry? Let us dine and share stories!" Aragorn clasped a rough hand around Legolas's shoulder, and together the old friends strode off to Legolas's chamber. Upon entering, Aragorn's eyes were at once drawn to the mournful painting on the wall. At once he strode over to it, and gently stroked the melancholy woman's face.

Legolas stared at him, transfixed. "I, too, was touched by her woe, but know not who she is."

"Was," Aragorn said, knowingly. "She was the Lady Gilraen, my mother. They display her weeping, for it is said that is how they found her after my father's death. She loved him so..."

They sat at a small table by the open window, which provided an awe-inspiring view over the citadel, and listened to the melodic singing of the elves.

Aragorn sighed upon finishing his glass, and suddenly appeared tired, yet relieved. Legolas gazed at him to see an older Aragorn, yet, not one who is touched by as many years as he has lived. The elves knew of his heritage, as that of descendant of the kings of the past; the heir to the throne of Gondor.

"You seem tired, my friend. What relief it must be to once again be in this last safe house of the west," Legolas said gently.

"Ah, yes. This is the home of my childhood, and the resting place of my mother. I am greatly relieved that we arrived here in time, I hope. Frodo's injury is formidable."

"Ai, what is this? What accident has Frodo taken upon his journey? I have been on duty throughout the day and had no word."

"By fate or evil mastery, our band met with five Ringwraiths at Amon Sûl. Frodo was pierced with a Morgul blade."

Legolas's eyes widened while Aragorn recounted the tale.

"I worried greatly for him and still worry," Aragorn continued. "Hobbits are small in stature, but not less in spirit than Men; perhaps even more so...and equally mortal."

"How does he fare now?" Legolas asked, concerned. Though he had never met Frodo, he had heard much of him from Bilbo, who enjoyed very much in relating all that there was to know about the young Hobbit. Legolas felt that he quite knew him already.

"I have seen Elrond, and he spoke only hopefully of Frodo recovering; sadly, it is at these times that uncertainly reigns and weighs heavily. More shall be known tomorrow, I am told, and I hope the news fairs well for I have grown very fond of him," Aragorn said, frowning into his goblet of crimson wine. "But, enough of this, still you have not told me of your news!"

Legolas turned his head, loath to speak of his ill tidings which he knew would disappoint his friend. Aragorn had laboured so painstakingly long to capture the creature Gollum. "Ah..." he began.

"Why did you not tell me of your marriage?" Aragorn said with a sparkle in his eyes, and a smile upon his face.

Legolas stared at the innocence in his friend's expression, and decided to let the disappointing news rest for a time until it was called upon. "We had word that you were in the wild. I would have liked you there."

"As I would have liked to have been there for you, my friend. And how does married life suit you?" he asked, as Legolas blushed at the question. "Is she elven-fair with music in her voice, and a head of sunshine gold?"

Legolas laughed at the imagined description of his wife. "Nay, for she is no Elf, Aragorn. She has eyes the colour of springtime leaves, and hair of red flame. Though not tall and graceful as Elven-maidens are, she is wise, and full of commanding strength. She has rare mystic talents, and is a gifted healer. I owe my life to her, and she has my heart."

Aragorn stared, eyes expressing all the wonder and surprise he felt. "You wedded a mortal?" he inquired, unsure if he heard correctly.

"Aye," Legolas replied. "Your ears do not deceive you."

"But, surely..." Aragorn began, but was interrupted by a sudden knock upon the door. Legolas bade them enter, and Elrond promptly did so. Aragorn and Legolas swiftly rose from their seats upon sight of the exalted lord of the house.

"I hope I am not disturbing you," Elrond said, coming closer.

"You do no such thing," Aragorn assured him. "Legolas and I were merely catching up with our stories since our last meeting."

"Of course," the noble lord replied. "Would you mind, Aragorn, if I were to speak to Legolas alone for a moment?"

"But of course," Aragorn replied before quietly slipping out of the room. Legolas wondered what conversation Elrond would require that not even Aragorn be present.

"Legolas," Elrond began, somewhat cautiously, "do you know the contents of your father's letter to me?"

"I do not."

"As well as other information, it contained a report concerning the escape of Gollum."

"Ah," Legolas responded. "We followed his trail, but, alas..."

Elrond raised his fair hand in motion to silence his companion. "There is no need, as yet, for you to tell your tale, Legolas. The time will come soon enough. I am calling a Council together, and there you may relate all that you know on this subject. You need not feel any shame, for I understand you were not among his guardians," Elrond said, kindly.

"All my people were bestowed that responsibility, my lord. Nay, I now greatly regret having to tell Aragorn that all his searching and final reward in Gollum's capture was in vain."

"We shall see. For the time, I shall ask that you say naught to him of this. The whole shall be laid bare at the Council, and until then, there need be no more thought in this regard."

Elrond turned to leave but halted when Legolas spoke once more.

"When, my lord, shall the Council take place?"

"As soon as I have word that Frodo, son of Drogo, is recovered." Legolas was left alone to contemplate his instruction. Aragorn returned soon after, but did not intrude upon Legolas with questions regarding Elrond's visit. They spent the remainder of the evening sharing tales of their journey, and listening to the enchanting melodies of the elven-folk below.

**Author's Note:** _If you like what you're reading, please let me know with a short review!_


	21. Chapter XXI The Fellowship of the Ring

**CHAPTER 21**

**THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING **

Following Frodo's recovery, a Council was brought forth where the wise of many nations met to discuss the fate of the One Ring. After hours of deliberation, and finding no other option available to them, the decision was reached that the Ring must be destroyed. The charge to do so was valiantly volunteered by Frodo; however, he would not have to face this task alone. Eight companions would share this burden, to guide and protect him as they may. Many knew it to be a perilous journey, while others deemed it hopeless. The duty of choosing Frodo's companions fell to the wisest in Rivendell: Elrond, Gandalf, Glorfindel, and Aragorn, who met in Elrond's private chambers to deliberate the matter at some length.

Wind blew into the open windows with ease, causing the draperies to sway with delight. Sunlight, too, invaded the room by means of high, stained glass windows, which cast its rays upon the floor in a vision of rainbows. The wise were seated round a circular table, as white as ivory, and highly carved with interlaced Elvish motifs.

Gandalf breathed a heavy sigh and said, "I wish to go on this quest. With Saruman now our enemy, there is much that I must do. He will contrive with all his ferocious will to counter our every move and seize the Ring for his own."

"Surely he would not be so bold as to attempt that!" Glorfindel said, somewhat dismayed.

"Trust it. There is no end to Saruman's scheming," Elrond rebutted. "Though a puppet he may be for Sauron, he has a grasping desire of his own where the Ring is concerned. Go you must, Gandalf the Grey, and aid where you can."

"It is my wish to go as well," Aragorn said, steadfastly. "You know I must."

Elrond peered into Aragorn's deep eyes, and nodded his head. "For what you desire, indeed, you must. However, is this what you truly wish? For none who go must do so if their will is not surrendered to the probability of death. You may never return. Are you certain you wish to do this?"

"I have made my choice," Aragorn replied, unfaltering. His decision, in fact, had been made as soon as he had learned what price he must pay to marry where his heart beckoned.

"Very well then, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Elrond said, surrendering. "You, too, shall go on this venture. The matter now stands for your other six companions. I had promised Frodo's friend, Samwise Gamgee, that he may go as well. I hope that was not an error in judgement. What think you, Gandalf?"

"No indeed, Elrond! Samwise is strong in spirit and as sturdy a Hobbit as one can hope for. He would never lead Frodo astray, and would be a fierce protector of his beloved master. I concur heartily with your decision."

"You feel so strongly for the little creature?" Glorfindel asked. "Though I have spent insufficient time with Hobbits, they appear little more than children to me. I find it disheartening to send children into the horrors of war, which surely must be in their future whether we are to succeed, or fail."

"Righteous wars must be waged, of course, Noble Glorfindel," Aragorn said, gently, "but do not imagine the halflings to be as ignorant and innocent as children, for they are not so. Perhaps only, as you say, of the horrors of war, but knowing Hobbits as I do, I find that to be a blessing. Nay, I put my trust in what I had witnessed daily in bringing them to Rivendell. For them to have faced five Nazgûl, and still try to aid their friend...why, I have seen men do less for their own kindred under less circumstance."

"So it is decided," Elrond said. "Samwise will accompany his master if it is his wish to do so."

"And what of Peregrin Took and Merridoc Brandybuck?" Gandalf asked, a small grin upon his mischievous, old face.

"You would wish them to come upon this precarious journey as well?" Glorfindel asked, now quite amazed.

"I would," the wizard replied. "It is my belief that they shall be much needed in the future."

"Gandalf, you have much wisdom, but on this I cannot agree! We would then have three weak Hobbits, in whose stead there could be three of our own mighty warriors! Pray, how would they protect Frodo?" Glorfindel implored.

"As most Hobbits would, by means of their wits. You would not think it to look upon them, but Hobbits are curiously clever."

Aragorn, who during the discussion had taken Gandalf's defense, proclaimed, "They can be taught the basics in sword fighting, depend upon it. I am agreed with Gandalf Greyhelm. Merry and Pippin should go."

All eyes turned to Elrond to see what the verdict would be. He took a moment of deliberation before saying, "I am disinclined to agree with you, Gandalf. The time may come when they will be most essential to a cause of their own. The Shire, though unknown to Sauron, is by no means free from his wrath, and it is not unheard of to Saruman, we must not forget. From what I have seen, Pippin more than any other is not ready for the brutality of war. I do not think it kind to subject him to that."

"There is, of course, truth in what you say, Elrond," Gandalf said, wisely, "but Pippin, I know, shall be broken hearted if he were the only one to remain in Rivendell."

"Gandalf, it would be for his own good that I would choose to do so," Elrond replied, gently.

"And I think you would find him soon gone, and we would have a stowaway," the old wizard said with laughter in his eyes.

Elrond, however, was by no means convinced. "Well, I shall give it more thought. Having said thus, let us move on. Our number now increases to five, and we have but three spaces left. Does anyone have any suggestions on this matter?"

"Dwarves attended the meeting," Gandalf said, "and honorably felt the need to confer with us, therefore, they must not be forgotten."

"I agree," Glorfindel said. "Betray us they could have but, instead, sought out our council, perhaps at great risk to themselves. A Dwarven representative there should be in our Fellowship."

"It is my knowledge," Elrond said, "that Gimli, son of Gloin, comes from a noble family, and, I am told by Bilbo, is a very gallant warrior with an axe."

"It is true," Gandalf agreed. "Gimli is greatly skilled in the arts of battle. I feel he would do much to benefit our mission."

"Is it all agreed, then," Elrond asked, "that Gimli, son of Gloin, shall be invited to partake of this endeavor?"

Gandalf, Aragorn, and Glorfindel all nodded in agreement.

"I have another candidate to name, Elrond," Gandalf proclaimed. "Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor."

Aragorn shifted slightly in his seat but remained silent. All had misgivings concerning Boromir, who solely believed that the Ring might be used to defeat their common enemies. This, thought the wise, was very dangerous indeed. However, Gondor had also sought the Elves council as in days of old, and this was not to be forgotten.

"I ask one thing, Gandalf," Elrond said, uneasily. "Can Boromir be trusted? Men, as you know, are weak. Their thirst for power and wealth clouds their judgement. Is Boromir any different? You should know more than any other how the Ring can manipulate and seduce."

"If we are to place our hopes for Middle Earth in men," Gandalf replied, "then, surely we must have a representative from its country."

Elrond sighed, but was not convinced. "What think you, Aragorn?"

Aragorn thought a moment in silence before giving his answer. "Boromir should be given the option of coming. Misgivings or no, his presence will speak volumes of where his people stand in this, the last fight."

"Glorfindel?" Elrond enquired. Glorfindel nodded his head in agreement. "Then it is settled," Elrond continued. "Boromir, too, shall be offered this opportunity. We now have but one space remaining. I believe that space should be reserved for an Elf, do you not agree?"

"It is my wish to go," Glorfindel said, modestly. All eyes turned to him, surprised.

Elrond's eyes were gentle in their understanding. "It is to be understood that you would, good Glorfindel. However, I'm afraid it would not do. Being such a noble lord of my house, there is no possibility that you could invade Mordor unnoticed. Though valiant warrior you are, it would be the Fellowship's undoing."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement, and did not appear the least humbled for having thus been rejected. "Whom should go, then? Elladan? Elrohir?"

"I fear my sons as well," Elrond replied, "would serve no better for our cause."

"What of Legolas, son of Thranduil?" Aragorn enquired. "Surely the honorable Prince, quite unknown to Sauron, would serve better stealth. I can vouch for his skills in combat. There are none in Mirkwood who can rival his bow."

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf agreed. "Legolas would be a fine choice to represent the Elves. Do you have any objection, Glorfindel?"

"Nay, Legolas will serve considerably well, I believe," Glorfindel replied. "Elrond, what is your opinion?"

Elrond sat for a moment in contemplative thought before rising from the round table and striding toward a smaller table laden with scrolls of parchment. All eyes followed him curiously as he searched the pile for one particular letter. Upon finding the one desired, he uncurled it, and once more read its contents. A particular passage interested him greatly.

_**Therefore, Elrond, it is my understanding that a quest of supreme importance shall be on the horizon soon. If this is so, I know of a willingness to include my son, Legolas, amongst its protectors. Fear not that I am oblivious to the dangers of such an acquiesce. However, I feel that this is not for me to decide. Pray do not let any know that I have such information, least of all my son.  
Yours, as ever,  
Thranduil**_

Elrond replaced the letter on the table and saw all eyes clasped upon him, held in bewilderment. "I think you make an excellent suggestion, Aragorn. Legolas, too, shall be offered a place in our Fellowship."

Legolas knocked on the door softly, and when a voice bade him enter, he did so, opening the door quietly. Elrond stood on the open terrace, and Legolas was instantly struck by how noble and wise the great lord appeared. Sunlight washed down upon him, illuminating his dark hair, and set his silver circlet upon his head sparkling in the afternoon light. Elrond's long, jade robes made him appear very elegant, and with a smooth white hand, he motioned Legolas to join him. Legolas did as much, and took his place beside the highborn Elf.

"How have you enjoyed your stay with us, Legolas?" Elrond enquired, pouring his guest some scarlet wine in a long, crystal flute.

"Very much," Legolas said, accepting the refreshment. "Thank you, Lord Elrond. Indeed, I cannot recollect the last time I saw Rivendell so busy with such a variety of peoples. Not since the old days, at least. It has been long since we were so unified."

"You are very perceptive, young Legolas. This is the last stand of all the free peoples. You bore witness to the great Council and must now return to Mirkwood to relate the whole to your father. Pray give him this for me," Elrond said, handing him a roll of parchment, sealed with the emblem of Elrond.

Taking the letter, Legolas thanked him. "I shall do as you ask, Lord Elrond."

"I fear I must ask more of you before you depart. As you are well aware, a Fellowship of Middle Earth is being made to destroy the One Ring. It is my choice, and those here of whom I hold in great esteem, that you should join this company. It would be you who represents our race."

Legolas was beyond surprise. He stared at Elrond, unable to make any reply. Elrond, seeing his astonishment, continued. "Understand it is only with your free will that we can allow you to embark on this quest. Feel no need of right or wrong, or of duty. You must want to go."

Nodding, Legolas signaled his understanding, but beyond that, he said nothing.

"It will be very dangerous. You may never return. Pray give it some thought and discuss it with your family. I need no answer today."

"I shall join the Fellowship," Legolas said quietly but firmly and full of feeling.

"Would you not like to confer with your wife?"

"It is because of my wife that I shall go: because of her, my brothers, and my family, the trees, streams and valleys, mountains and rivers, and all that I hold dear to this world which will soon be no more to us. They have housed us and been our lifelong friends. If I do not go, I shall feel forever guilty of whatever outcome there shall be. Nay, Lord Elrond; my mind is made. It is my wish to go."

"Then I shall not attempt to discourage you, for you will make a vital addition to our quest. Pray give my sincerest regards to your wife and father."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. I shall depart within the hour. When am I to return?"

"I have great hope that we shall yet discover where Gollum hides. Stay at your house no longer than a fortnight. I believe December is the month when the Fellowship will depart. Frodo should be fully recovered by then."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. I shall return in December."

"I, therefore, make my farewell to you, Legolas, son of Thranduil. May you return to us safely."

Legolas bowed deeply before departing from Elrond's chamber. Hastily, he bade his goodbyes to Gandalf and Aragorn, and received even more letters to deliver to his father. He and his kinsmen, now prepared, stood waiting as an elf brought them four horses laden with provisions and gifts to be brought back with them. Lómeril stepped out of the shadows, mischievous grin adorning his face.

"Our competition will have to wait, for it seems you are running away. Though, I cannot say I am surprised. I am very skilled with my bow. No doubt it has caused you trepidation."

An amused smile spread over Legolas's face. "I am sent home by Lord Elrond."

"He dislikes you so much?" Lómeril asked, eyes dancing. "Nay, I cannot tease you! Though I find it amusing sport. Did I not say that you would be returning to your wife soon enough? Now, you see, there was no need for melancholy."

"I am returning to her, but not for long. December shall carry me back here, and beyond," Legolas replied, amused at his friend's impertinence.

"It seems your heart again shall have reason for sorrow. Ah, poor Legolas! Are you never to be happy?" Lómeril asked, teasingly. "I shall come with you to the boarders, my friend. Your journey shall be shorter with our horses bearing you to the foot of the mountain."

"Thank you, Lómeril," Legolas said, gazing one last time at the luminous city, full of music and starlit song. "Your company I graciously accept."

"Then come! Your loving wife is waiting." The four climbed onto their elven mounts and, once again, rode off beneath the dark veil of the forest, leaving the fair elven city behind them.

**Author's Note:** _If you like what you're reading, please let me know with a short review!_


	22. Chapter XXII The Truth

**CHAPTER 22 **

**THE TRUTH**

The mystery revolving around Legolas's long absence was much for Haldof to bear. Thranduil had refused to betray Mithryn's confidence despite Haldof's incessant demands. He was by no means bold enough to ask Mithryn himself, though thoroughly confident that she also knew what drove Legolas from Mirkwood. Galamed and Tarnil proved to be equally frustrating for, had they known any information, they would surly have shared confidences with him. His own father flatly declined comment other than replying that Legolas was called away on duty of no particular consequence. Haldof did not in the least believe this vague tale. One thing he could be certain of; he knew his own brother, and Legolas was never one to go without so much as a farewell. However, finding all his sources of information disappointing, Haldof was thus forced to sit, wonder, and wait for Legolas's slow return.

Many days did he spend doing just that, and yet, Haldof was far too impatient to do this for long, and once again reproached his father for being less than forthcoming.

"Am I not, too, a prince of the realm? Why do you confide in a mortal, but not in me?"

"Haldof," Thranduil said, exasperated, "some things you need not know! Legolas is safe, and therefore, you may be comforted."

Yet, Haldof was not comforted. He did not know whether it was his father's evasiveness that taunted him into solving this riddle, or the forlorn look on Mithryn's face that he viewed daily. His heart commanded him to worry, and thus, he would not stop until the truth about his brother was discovered.

Upon hearing his father's dismissive non-answers, Haldof could do little but stand and stare with a look of indignation. Thranduil saw, but did not reveal any sympathy. He simply walked away and sat in his chair by the hearth, his back to his pugnacious son.

That would not halt Haldof's determination, however. He marched round and sat opposite his father, unwilling to allow any escape from his inquisition. "This will not do, and you know it, Father!" he said in a softer tone than before. "Why must you keep such secrects from me? Do you find me untrustworthy?"

Thranduil's face remained unchanged by his son's latest tactic: guilt. "It is a matter of trust, but not on your side, Haldof. I keep information which is not mine to share. Do you understand? For the moment, it does not concern you. Be confidant in the knowledge that when we have word of your brother, you will know all."

"Have word? Is he not to return soon?"

"I am sorry, I know not," the king answered, truthfully.

"Father, this is not to be borne! Can you not simply tell me even where he is?!"

"I cannot, and I will ask that you cease your futile attempts to discover what you are not meant to know at this time."

Exasperated, Haldof rose and promptly left, leaving Thranduil quite alone in his vast hall. He could not blame Haldof. Indeed, he rather shared in his frustration. There were few others with whom he shared his most intimate confidence, but in this case, there was no other way. Daily he hoped for a letter from Legolas, but nothing came.

Golden leaves crunched under Mithryn's tiny footfalls as she walked aimlessly through Thranduil's forest realm. Having finally come to terms with her vision of Legolas fading into darkness, she spent the days of his absence quietly, and most usually, alone. Elmarin and Finaviel visited often, but her friend saw great alteration in Mithryn. Less spirit had she now, and at times, Elmarin noticed, her back caused her to wince as if in pain. No soreness did Mithryn ever complain of, but her closest friend believed that it gave her a good deal of discomfort.

It had been Mithryn's wish to remain somewhat aloof and alone, unaware that she was once again renewing her old habits of insolation. At first, she attended the fantastic dinner feasts with willingness, but soon took notice of Haldof's repeated leers in her direction. His darkened countenance and, at times, menacing stare proved too much to bear, and she soon began making excuses not to attend the merrymaking, preferring to dine quite alone as she had done for many long years in quiet seclusion.

Thranduil, however, was quick to quash any such hopes of her hermitage. Legolas had been absent nearly a fortnight, and Mithryn from his table for five consecutive dinners before he decided to summon her.

Thranduil strolled about the arbor in deep contemplation, or so it seemed to Mithryn as she walked toward him. Leaves of many hues were plucked from their lofty branches by a gusty breeze and sent fluttering to the earth in merry showers; yet, none so much as dared land upon the noble king.

"Ah Mithryn," Thranduil welcomed as she stepped near. "What a splendid day, is it not? Indeed you will find it strange, but I had not noticed it autumn until today. I have seen so many."

Mithryn had seen a great many autumns as well, for one of her kind, but had not near the knowledge nor memory to compare with that of Thranduil.

Knowing not what sort of reply would be appropriate, she merely asked, "Do you remember each autumn you have seen?"

"Elven memories are long, yet I do. I could tell you of these ancient trees' ancestors, of whom I saw as nut and sapling when I, too, was young. But their stories are long and that is not the purpose of my calling you hither, my dear."

Thranduil paused for a reply from Mithryn, but none came for she knew not what to say. He smiled gently and explained his meaning. "I have not seen you at my table, as of late," he stated, kindly, a curious look upon his face which seemed almost amused.

Slightly abashed, Mithryn replied, "I am sorry, your Grace. Have I been away so very much?"

"Five nightfalls have you been absent from our merrymaking. Am I wrong to have supposed it was Haldof who drove you away?"

Mithryn's eyes widened and blinked with surprise at his clear understanding.

"Oh yes," he continued, gently. "His behaviour failed to escape my notice, either. He is frustrated and anxious for news of Legolas since I have given him none. Haldof is very willful, but I would ask that you pay no regard to his stares and scowls. I am confidant that he would not dare approach you for information. He is rather frightened of you, you know."

"Frightened? Of me?" Mithryn exclaimed. "I had understood him to be a great warrior, and afraid of nothing."

"Great warrior he is, make no mistake. But you, my dear, have great power, that you must admit. Not only in your unique skills, but also, and what I believe to be where his concern lies, with Legolas. You are his wife, and whether you wish it or not, hold great command over his happiness. Haldof is aware of your human frailty and sees far into the future when Legolas may break under the great weight of woe. However, I would ask that you set aside your dislike of Haldof's manners, of which I cannot blame you. You must be mindful of propriety, my Dear."

"My lord?"

"You are the future Queen of this realm, and while Legolas is away, you have a great responsibility to your people. You must be conscious of that. I know of your shy ways, and of how you had lived in the past, but I ask you now to turn and face your future. No longer are you alone. You should be with your people."

"Yes, of course," Mithryn replied, quite humbled by his inspiring speech, eyes now fully awake to her duty. Indeed, she could not imagine what nonsense had driven her so far from her responsibilities. "I shall be there tonight, my lord."

"I am glad to hear it," Thranduil said, much relieved. "Heed my words, and pay no notice to Haldof's ill moods. They come and go, much as they have always done. You must not let him goad you. Legolas would not approve of it."

"No, indeed. You are quite right, I am sure. Thank you, my lord."

Thranduil was wise, indeed, and knew his sons with a superior understanding. Unfortunately, for Mithryn's sake, he had erred in his conclusion that Haldof would shy away from her. She had kept her promise and dined alongside her people, though offering little conversation. Alone under an elm tree blithely littering its coat around her, she sat meekly apart from the lively gathers, and favoured meditating and observing.

"You come...only to be alone?" a voice said behind her.

Mithryn turned quickly to see Tarnil standing near.

"Pray forgive me," he bade, stepping closer still. "I did not aim to startle you. You appeared so lonely to me."

Mithryn's face blossomed into a smile. "I suppose I did look a little forlorn. You are not mistaken, Tarnil. I am a trifle lonely."

Tarnil sat beside her on the stone bench. "Ah, it is understandable. I, too, miss Legolas. However, I am glad you are here tonight. He would not wish you to hide yourself away and despair."

The conversation strayed to other topics, and Legolas was momentarily forgotten. Mithryn saw much of Legolas in Tarnil. They shared the same parents and were very alike in appearance, yet Legolas contained a quiet strength that Tarnil lacked. Mithryn concluded that there simply was none other like her beloved husband.

"I did not intend to stay long, as I yearn for a stroll neath the starry sky. Would you care to join me?" Tarnil said, standing and holding out his hand.

"Nay, thank you, Tarnil," Mithryn said, though much touched by his gentle thoughtfulness in including her. "I am content here tonight. Perhaps tomorrow."

"As you wish," he said, and walked away shrouded by leafy darkness until he could no more be seen by her mortal eyes.

Yet, she was by no means alone. Haldof stepped out of the shadows, bright eyes kindled with suspicion. Instantly, Mithryn started, her stomach turning to ice. A sharp pain stung her back, her orc-wound once again telling its evil making. It was not new to her, and at once she knew that walking would be very difficult. There was no escaping Haldof this time.

"You have been avoiding me," Haldof stated plainly, though keeping his distance.

"I have been avoiding no one," Mithryn replied, attempting to imagine her bane away.

"Then, why do you sit so alone? Come, let us join the others."

Unable to stand, and unwilling to go with Haldof, she merely sat and stared at him, determined to not let him get the better of her.

"I am comfortable here, thank you," she replied sternly. "Though you may join them, if you choose."

"Nay, I too, am comfortable talking to you here," he replied, leaning back against a tree. Mithryn breathed a heavy sigh which seemed to amuse Haldof's darker side. "What a fine night, do you not think so? And such festivities! It is sad that Legolas could not be here to enjoy it."

"Ah," Mithryn thought. "So, this is what he is after." She rubbed her tender back, and replied, "I agree. I am certain that Legolas would wish to be nowhere but here. I am as anxious for his return as you are."

Nodding his head, Haldof appeared sympathetic. "Pray tell, sister, where is he?" he inquired casually, but with a glimmer of steel in his eyes.

"I fear I know not," she replied. It was true, for she had no notion of his current whereabouts. She by no means wished to relate the whole of her knowledge to Haldof, but she refused to lie to him. To do so would sink herself below reproach. Dislike him she did, but he was still her husband's brother, and Haldof, too, loved Legolas.

"Oh, come now, Mithryn," Haldof bade, his voice suddenly oily and full of determination. "You know more than you are saying, that you cannot deny!" He took two steps forward. "I shall ask again, where is my brother?"

"I do not know, Haldof. I cannot tell you what I do not know!" she said, now much unnerved by his intimidating stance.

"Truly?" he asked, stepping closer still. "Now, I find that difficult to believe. I cannot imagine how he could leave Mirkwood and say naught to you of his destination, or the reason of his departure. He must have said something."

He stepped closer, and was now only a few feet away. Mithryn's instinct commanded her to flee, but her body stayed rooted to the bench. Not knowing what else to do, she flew up her hand, casting an invisible force, holding him to the spot from whence he stood. Leaning against it forcefully, Haldof stared at her in sudden dismay. "You use your magic against me?!"

"I know not why, but you put great fear in me, Haldof. I cannot answer the questions you ask me."

"Cannot or will not?!" he snarled as he fought futilely against the air.

"Is there a difference?" she enquired gently.

The sharp, clear call of an iavin cut his response as well as the music of all the minstrels. The woods fell into silence as the horn sounded its airy call once more. Haldof ceased his efforts and stared, bewildered, up into the night sky, listening intently to the distant herald's announcement. Mithryn sat in awe as Elves near and far cried out with joy, followed by melodious song, full of mirth, as they all drifted away, disappearing into the depths of the woodland.

"What is it?" Mithryn asked Haldof, her hand still holding him at a distance.

"It is Legolas!" he replied, obviously surprised. "He has returned!" Seeing the clear opportunity to finally have his questions answered, he sprinted away from Mithryn into the thicket, toward the border where the call still rang true.

Mithryn's hand slowly fell to her lap, and with great pain, she rose. "Legolas!" she whispered with anxious hope.

When Haldof arrived at the border, he was slightly ahead of the slow moving assembly. He charged the unsuspecting Legolas by jumping upon him, and they fell to the earth in a heap. Bell-like notes of laughter pealed from all those present as they gave the two siblings some space and carried on lively conversations.

"I understand you are glad to see me, Haldof," Legolas said, rising and dusting himself off, "but, you need not have attacked me!"

"When did you become such a serious elf?" Haldof inquired, mood now considerably lightened.

"Never mind," Legolas said, clapping his hand on his brother's strong shoulder. "It is good to see you, and good to be home!" His eyes lifted to the familiar trees, and he breathed the air, inhaling all the well-known scents of Mirkwood. The crowd gathered round welcoming their prince and gave a cheerful escort back through the woods.

"Where were you?" Haldof demanded.

Legolas came back to reality. He stared into his brother's steely eyes and suddenly felt himself concerned. "Does it matter, Brother? I am home! Come! Let us see Father. I am anxious to speak with him. How does Mithryn fare? Have you spoken with her as of late?"

Haldof stared with bewilderment into Legolas's face, and exclaimed, "Nay, Legolas! This is too much! You left with not a word to me or Galamed, and for weeks I got no answer from any concerning your whereabouts or what cause would take you away with no message to your own brethren!"

Legolas sighed. "I can see your frustration, Haldof. I would ask that you wait for a family meeting when..."

"Nay!" Haldof interrupted, firmly.

"Oh, very well," Legolas said, relenting. "I have been to Rivendell."

"To Rivendell?"

"I have been to a great council, and a decision has at last been made concerning the One Ring which we possess."

"What is to be done?" Haldof asked, much awed by his brother's tale.

"That, forgive me, Brother, I cannot tell." Haldof was about to protest, but for once, Legolas's raised hand and steadfast face made him abruptly cease his prying. "It would not do that I would tell you before Father, and well you know it."

Indeed, Haldof did, and made no more argument. "Now, Brother," Legolas continued, "you will forgive me, I must find my wife. Have you seen her? How is she?"

For once, Haldof knew not what to say. "How should I know? She is not my wife!"

Legolas sighed, and bade him a hasty farewell, and strode off with a quickened step in search of Mithryn. Haldof had been so concerned for his brother's welfare, that he had not given any thought to what Legolas would think of his behaviour. It was a new thought, and one that suddenly disturbed him greatly. He knew not what tale Mithryn would tell.

**Author's Note:** _ Please leave me a short review!_


	23. Chapter XXIII Farewell, Sweet Prince

**CHAPTER 23**

**FAREWELL, SWEET PRINCE**

As Elves had gathered close to Legolas and pressed to converse with the gallant traveller, it had not been easy to escape in search of his wife. Upon completion of exchanges of hearty greetings and promises of detailed stories of his adventures, he ran freely neath twinkling autumn stars to his home in the trees. Mithryn had just begun to ascend the steep latticed steps when Legolas saw her, calling out, "Mithryn!"

She turned sprightly around to see her love, yet, at a distance, eyes bright, and chest heaving. Her heart pounded as he strode closer. She appeared to him like a vision, surrounded in misty frost, hair and eyes aglow with rapturous warmth. Pausing at the base of the steps, his feet still on the cool earth, he cast his eyes upward into her pale, moonlit face.

Smiling, Mithryn whispered softly, "You look well," her hand resting on the crest of his head, softly caressing his fine, golden hair. He seemed to melt upon feeling her touch, eyes closing, and for one moment, he wished he could rescind his promise at Rivendell and stay with his love; but in his heart he knew what he must do, and inwardly, it burned him.

"Has it been an arduous journey, my love?" she asked gently.

"I found labour only in being separated from you. Rivendell was beautiful, but sadly empty and forlorn. There was never a moment I did not wish for your company. But come," he said, stepping upon the lacy steps. "I do not wish to be separated from you a second longer." Grasping her small figure in a tight embrace, his lips pressed gently against hers. It had felt an age since he clasped her in his strong arms, and once again, his senses danced. Her honeyed scent filled his soul and intoxicated his head. So soft were her curls; they felt like summer rain on his cheek.

"Legolas!" a voice hailed, which snapped the lovers from their ecstasy. King Thranduil stood in the moonlight, patiently waiting for his son's address. Legolas gave Mithryn a meaningful pat on her shoulder before descending the steps and joining his father's side. Mithryn attempted to listen, but as they spoke in Elvish, she understood little.

"Father, I meant to come to you shortly. I beg your pardon."

"Not at all, Legolas," Thranduil replied. "It is understandable that you would wish to greet your wife after being away so many weeks. Normally, I would wait until morningtide, but these times are precarious, and I felt the necessity to seek you out. Have you news for me?"

Legolas reached into his breast doublet and pulled out two slightly crumpled scrolls, each sealed, and handed them to the king. "With regards from Lord Elrond and Mithrandir."

Thranduil quickly raised his eyes in surprise. "Mithrandir? He has returned?"

"Aye, and with information imperative to our cause. There was a council in Rivendell shortly thereafter. No doubt these letters will explain all to you. Father," Legolas said uneasily, "I know these are insecure times, but could not my meeting with you wait until the morrow?" He glanced back at his wife, and Thranduil understood his meaning completely. The letters would satisfy his need for news until the daylight.

"So be it," Thranduil said kindly with an empathizing smile. "Go to your wife. These letters shall have to suffice."

"How has she fared in my absence? Was she much alone?"

"At times. However, she is very mindful of her duties. Haldof has been most inquisitive during your absence. Galamed and Tarnil have been respectfully silent on the subject, but I know they have suspicions. The truth must be told; there is no more escaping it."

Legolas nodded his head in understanding. After embracing his son in welcome, Thranduil departed and left Legolas and Mithryn alone to give their own private welcomes.

A crisp breeze flowed into the bedchamber, yet, under the mountain of feathered blankets, no chill entered. Dawn peaked into the sparkling glass windows beckoning the cockcrow of another day. Mithryn lay awake contemplating the events of the new day while watching her beloved husband sleep, his eyes open in an unblinking Elven slumber state. Drawing back the coverlet, Mithryn concentrated on the movement of his torso with each breath he took. His naked skin, warm and smooth to the touch, and wisps of blond hair cast carelessly across the pillow created a picture Mithryn had missed these many lonesome nights. Laying her head on the pillow next to his and curling up close to the warmth of his firm body, she breathed in deeply his fragrance of a woodland wet with dew. Her eyes closed, and she fell back into blissful sleep.

It was not until the sun was high in the cloudless sky that Thranduil called forth his council and the truth of Legolas's disappearance was finally disclosed. The room fell hushed and still as Legolas recounted his Rivendell adventures. Indeed, he had much to tell: Mithrandir's return, Saruman's betrayal, the contribution of the Hobbits and the One Ring, and last but not least, the Council of Elrond. He spoke of the wise and final decision of the fate of the Ring. The audience was held captive during his rendition, all with wide, blinking eyes fixed on his person.

Legolas gazed from one brother to the next. Galamed appeared dismayed beyond full comprehension, his pale forehead contorted in confusion. Tarnil's eyes fell upon the floor, an air of melancholy surrounding him. Lastly, Haldof, sat in a silent rage; his fists clenched upon the hard oak table as his flaming eyes bore into Legolas's calm face. Haldof shook his head with a grim understanding. Finding no words, he rose with such vehement passion that his chair was knocked over with a bang and he stormed out of the room. The quiet that followed seemed peaceful, yet brought comfort to none.

"He worries for you," Thranduil said gently to Legolas, "as do we all."

"I know. If he were in my place, I would worry for him as well. However, I believe I am doing that which is right."

"It is a most complimentary offer, Legolas. Lord Elrond must think very highly of you," Tarnil said kindly, attempting to be supportive.

Humbly nodding his thanks, Legolas made no other reply.

"You are sure to leave, then?" Galamed inquired mournfully.

"Within the next fortnight," Legolas replied.

Tarnil was cast into dark, foreboding thought when he suddenly spoke, "What of Mithryn? Have you told her yet?"

"I saw no need to tell Mithryn on my first day returning. It would only hurt her. I shall tell her tonight."

"Legolas," Thranduil said, shaking his head compassionately at his eldest son, "there is naught to tell that she does not already know."

Mithryn, meanwhile, sat inside the latticed grotto, oblivious to the fallen leaves dancing and tumbling joyfully about her feet in partnership with a gusty breeze. Awaiting Legolas's return from the council, she attempted most heartily to be patient, but only found satisfaction when staring at the entrance to the palace.

Haldof marched out, face angry and wild, his eyes quickly sighting Mithryn. She swallowed in dismay, but felt she need not be frightened of him now that Legolas had returned. Haldof strode toward her with mighty, powerful strides, frail leaves crushing under his feet.

"You knew of this! Tell me is it not so!" he demanded, standing so straight and tall he blocked out the sun from her view, casting a dark shadow across her face.

Meekly, yet willfully, she replied, "It is."

"And still you sent him away?! Mithryn, was I mistaken in thinking you loved my brother?"

"I love him with all my soul."

"I do not understand you!" he cried, exasperated. "You love him so much you send him away to his doom?"

"It was not my will that he should go. I begged your father to keep him here, but...No matter. He shall return," she said, with slightly more assurance than she suddenly felt.

"Return? What, are you mad? One does not assail Mordor and live to tell about it! You have sent my brother to his death!"

A sudden panic besieged Mithryn and took strong hold. In her vision, she had seen nothing of Mordor, and the realization of the fate of her beloved husband came down upon her with immense force. "No, that cannot be!"

"But depend upon it, that is where he goes! I shall never forgive you! You should be cast out for the danger you have caused!"

"Haldof!" a voice spoke with forceful command. The bearer of that name turned to see Legolas standing infuriated behind him.

"Legolas," Haldof bade gently, "you do not understand. She tricked you! This decision is insanity!"

"Nonetheless, my decision is made," Legolas replied with an icy steel to his voice. "Mithryn had no part in it. She neither influenced me, nor commanded me to accept Lord Elrond's offer. I did so of my own accord."

"Why did you not refuse him?" Haldof demanded. "Elrond is not your king."

"That I know," Legolas replied, attempting to retain some composure.

"Indeed? What of Mirkwood? Do you think Mordor shall shield its eye from its old enemy, our home? Do not be so foolish, Legolas! You are needed here! Let the mortals fight their last fight."

"It is not their fight alone, Brother," Legolas said as gently as his temper would allow. "We, as Elves, have a responsibility to those we leave behind. Middle Earth is our home, but the time is coming when it will shelter us no more. Do you propose to leave it in ashes?"

"Of course not!" Haldof retorted angrily. "There is none more than I who would wish to see Sauron, the Deceiver, overthrown! This fight I do not oppose. It is your part in it I cannot condone. Is it war you seek, Legolas? I promise you, when the storm comes, there shall be battles enough to quench even your thirst for it!"

"I do not seek war, but it is my opinion that by going on this quest, I am doing Mirkwood the greatest service with which I could ever honour it."

"You propose to enter Mordor? Toss the Ring into the fire? Legolas," Haldof said, shaking his head, "attempt to see reason. This is madness!"

"Haldof, if I die, it will be for a cause that is worth dying for. Do you not understand?" Legolas said, attempting desperately to bring his brother to see the sense of it all.

"Nay!" Haldof replied, shaking his head with contempt. "If you leave, you do so of your own accord! I shall stay and defend my home and my people! Go, and be off with you!" Without waiting for a reply, Haldof turned and escaped under the empty branches of the forest. Legolas made no movement to follow. He sighed and sat beside his wife, grasping her around her waist in a comforting embrace.

"I am sorry," he said lovingly. "Haldof has always had difficulty controlling his passions."

"He can be alarming at times, to be sure, but in this, I bear him no ill will. There is truth in what he says."

"It is not certain what will occur, but I know my skills are needed. There is great danger, yes, but there is also hope."

"Hope that you shall return from Mordor? Come, Legolas. Shall we put much stalk in such futile hope?"

"I do not consider any hope futile," he replied. It had not occurred to him before that, far from Mithryn approving his decision, she would utterly wish his mind to change. "I am doing this for all of Middle Earth, for us. For you."

"For me? Then I wish you would not."

Her unwillingness to accept his very difficult decision upset him most of all. However, he knew in his heart what he must do, and refused to be persuaded by any. "I love you Mithryn, but do not ask me to go back on my word. It is not my wish to part from you, but I feel it incumbent upon me to join this endeavour. Oh, pray do not cry! I give you my solemn oath to return to you!"

Mithryn raised her weeping eyes up to his and felt it cruel to coerce him any longer. His return was in the hands of destiny.

As general knowledge of the Fellowship and its mission spread amongst them, elves stood divided in decision. Hushed conversations took place in walnut groves, winding corridors, and private bedchambers. Everywhere in Mirkwood, noble and commoner alike were distraught at the current turn of events. None wished Legolas to go, but all respected his decision, however right or wrong they felt it to be. And all felt that the inevitable black doom would befall this world if the Fellowship failed.

Days flew by as Legolas's departure date drew near. Time afforded no leisure as Legolas's and Mithryn's first duty was to their people who claimed much of their attention. Nonetheless, on this, the last day, Legolas was free from all engagements, and by Belegaladh, stood waiting. Running his hand over the ancient tree's rough bark, Legolas whispered his own elvish farewell to his old friend. Tarnil and Galamed approached, smiles brightening both faces from their spirited run.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Brother," Tarnil said, eyes full of mischief.

"Tarnil has just led me on a merry chase, though I found little amusement in it!" Galamed stated breathlessly, and glared at Tarnil with ill favour.

"You would keep me waiting while you forever kissed Anardil goodbye."

Galamed stood aghast at his brother's impudence, but was swiftly distracted by Legolas.

"Never mind. Where is Haldof? Does he make us wait as well?"

Both Tarnil and Galamed's faces fell. Tarnil spoke up, "Nay, we do not wait, Legolas, for Haldof will not come."

"Will not come?" repeated Legolas, clearly surprised at Haldof's mulishness. "But I am to leave tomorrow! I have not seen him these two weeks and I leave tomorrow. Perhaps he does not know this."

"Nay, Legolas," Galamed said gently, his own cares quite forgotten. "He knows."

Turning, Legolas stared at the chilled November earth laden with felled leaves, all crumpled and haggard. It had been painfully obvious to him where Haldof stood. Haldof having refused to even speak with him, Legolas had let him be, hoping that no grudge would be held too dear. It saddened him to think that he had been wrong, and that an incurable rift now divided the two brothers.

"Perhaps if you were to go to him..." Galamed suggested only to be cut short.

"Nay," Legolas said, disappointment in his voice. "Haldof has never been one to change his mind on a whim. If this is how he wishes to be, very well. I had thought..." He stopped short, and Tarnil and Galamed exchanged troubled glances. "But, never mind. Come! I have still two brothers who wish to see me before I go!" He swung his strong arms over the shoulders of his siblings and the three strolled off to enjoy reminiscing of days long passed.

It had been late upon Legolas's return, but his mood was merry after a day filled with recollecting mirthful memories. He quickly climbed the steps, and strode into his bedchamber to an awe-inspiring sight. A table set in the centre of the room stood abounding with sumptuous dishes that would tempt even the fussiest of appetites. Tall, ivory candles glowed from a silvery, woven candelabra which illuminated the room. A great goose, roasted golden brown, sat on a sparkling silver platter and, beside it, warm caraway bread, heavy and moist with sweet butter dripping from its crispy crust. Roasted figs, herb-filled potatoes, a tureen of creamy wild-mushroom soup as well as a glistening carafe filled with crimson Mulberry Wine also adorned the table, leaving little room for the solid gold place settings for two.

Mithryn stepped in through the open doorway.

"Mithryn, what is all this?" Legolas said, confused. "Are we not to go to the feast tonight?"

"By order of your father," Mithryn replied, waving a hand toward the meal fit for a king.

A gracious smile spread over Legolas's face, and he turned toward his beloved wife and noticed her radiant appearance for the first time. She was elegantly attired in crushed blue velvet with soft fur around her creamy throat and wrists. A circlet of silver shone through her flaming red hair.

"That was, indeed, kind of him," he said, taking her tiny hand in his. "These days have been so busy. I have not spent as much private time with you as I have desired."

"Do not scold yourself on my account. We have been doing our duty to our people, and that is most important. Besides, time with you is time well spent, regardless of whether we are alone or with a hundred of our people. For that I am grateful."

Smiling as his eyes beheld the radiant vision before him, he said lovingly, "You are more beautiful than the sun enchanting a forest on a summer afternoon."

Blushing, she said, "I am not elven fair."

"Nay, you surpass elven beauty. Do not laugh, for I speak the truth! All that is you is unique and unlike anything I have known before. I never knew I could love someone so much. It is exceedingly painful for me to leave you a second time," he said, hanging his head.

It was unforseen, even by the wise Lord Elrond, how the quest of the Fellowship would conclude. Legolas knew he might be separated from his wife for many months. Indeed, there was a great possibility of his never returning. All these thoughts flitted through his mind, yet, vanished when Mithryn's hands found rest on his firm shoulders.

"Think no more of it, my love," she said, consolingly. "We are together tonight, and that is enough."

He slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her in close to him. "I cannot bear the thought of leaving you tomorrow."

"You have changed your mind?" she asked, eyes hopeful. Legolas, however, made no answer other than appearing sheepish. "Never mind! Come, Darling. Should we not dine before this lovely meal is quite cold and ruined?"

"Yes!" Legolas exclaimed, happy for a change of thought. They ate their dinner keeping merry conversation flowing as freely as the fruity wine. Mithryn wisely refrained from returning to woe-filled speech, and Legolas, thankfully, was of like mind. They appeared happy to speak of Legolas's excursions of the day and of all the memories which had been stirred up in a day's romp with his youngest brothers. It did not escape Mithryn's notice, however, that Haldof's name was never mentioned.

It was not until the morning, when Legolas was dressing in his travelling clothes of green and brown, that Mithryn realized the full extent of his absence. She slipped out from the feathery blankets. The cool morning air crept along her bare skin until Legolas cast a robe around her shoulders. Mithryn then proceeded to aid him by lovingly fastening the clasps of his doublet. "You will be careful, won't you?"

"Of course."

"I know you shall not be able to write to me, but if you can get some word out, that you are safe, I would appreciate it."

"If I meet any safe-houses along my road, I will try."

Nodding her acceptance of his promise, she too got dressed and ran a comb hastily through her profusion of curls. It was not long before the servant, Noriath, knocked gently upon the door. Legolas bade him enter, and the humble elf stepped meekly in. "Beg your pardon, Prince Legolas, but the king summons thee. All is ready for thy departure."

"Thank you, Noriath, we are coming," Legolas replied.

Noriath bowed, and promptly exited.

The quiver, filled with razor sharp arrows, his bow and long white knife sat idly on the floor. Mithryn picked up the former bag and feeding her husband's arms through, fastened the silver buckle across his chest. Standing back, she studied his appearance with pride. He stood, noble and elegant, clothed for the quest which would take him so far from all that he held dear.

Without saying a word, she took his hand in hers, and together they walked out and joined the magnificent gathering of elves outside the palace. The assembly stood quiet; no sound nor voice was uttered as the royal couple walked past toward their mighty king.

"My son," Thranduil said to Legolas, though loudly enough that all could hear, "you depart on a quest undoubtedly fraught with peril and hardship. This is a mighty burden you have chosen to bear. However, you go as a representative of your family and all the Elves of Mirkwood. No matter what the outcome may be, we know that there is no greater warrior who could have gone in your stead. Lord Elrond chose very wisely when he chose you. _Namarie_." Thranduil held his son in a tight embrace as elves near and far watched, tasting the bitter sweetness of such an affectionate farewell.

Legolas moved onward to his two youngest brothers, standing patiently for their turn to say goodbye. Gazing about the sea of faces, Legolas inquired, "And Haldof?"

"He will not come," Thranduil said, gently.

Legolas felt as though those words pierced his heart like an icy blade. "Not even to bid me farewell?" he asked, deeply hurt.

Galamed shook his head, sadly, "Nay." In spite of Haldof's anger and torment, temptation had got the better of him, though none knew it but himself. Still unable to bear Legolas's company, Haldof watched the proceedings from afar as he sat on a lofty treetop perch. Vexed as he was, he could not stay away from his brother's parting, though only at a distance.

"Tarnil and Galamed," Legolas said so softly it was barely a whisper, "you will watch over my wife in my absence, will you not?"

"Aye," they replied.

"Her wound ceases to trouble her," said Legolas, alleviated, "and I am thankful for that."

Galamed furrowed his brow at this, his mind tossed into confusion. As he and many understood the matter, Mithryn's wound discomfited her greatly. But, as Legolas was at this moment departing, he felt it not his place to correct what she clearly wanted unknown.

However, Legolas thought nothing of Galamed's anxious face. He continued by saying, "Still, I would rest easier if I knew you to be doing this for me."

"Fear not, Brother," Tarnil replied, reassuringly.

"Consider Mithryn in our dearest care," Galamed affirmed.

"I thank you," Legolas said, mind now much at ease as he clenched his two brothers in a final embrace. "Until we meet again. And tell Haldof...tell Haldof, I am sorry."

Tarnil and Galamed nodded their understanding of this message, and Legolas approached the last person to whom he would bid farewell: his wife. Mithryn had been deeply moved by all who came to show her beloved husband support. The king's speech had touched her heart, and inside, it swelled with pride. He took her cool hands in his and spoke softly, "You have naught to fear. I shall return. I promised. Remember?"

She nodded to show him her support. "Of course you will. If not, no doubt Haldof would go searching for you."

This jest made those in hearing range titter with laughter, and Legolas's eyes danced. He gently stroked her smooth cheek and said in a low voice, "Watch the stars each night. My eyes, too, shall gaze up and meet yours there. No matter where I go, I'll find you when I see the stars."

His head leant down and he tenderly kissed her soft, ruby lips, knowing it a moment that would be recalled many long, lonely nights. Slowly moving away, he mounted Anfalas as three guards sat patiently on their elven ponies waiting to accompany him to Rivendell. Time, now completely spent, Anfalas trotted away. Legolas turned his head to see his home and family leisurely fade behind the mist of trees.

Thranduil stood beside Mithryn as they watched him move further and further away.

"Narbeleth has told me of your condition," Thranduil quietly confided to her.

"Then, you know," she replied, eyes never moving from her fleeting husband.

"Why did you not tell Legolas?"

"You were right, my lord. There is a deep magic at work here. His destiny lies elsewhere for a time; I see that now. Though it strikes fear in me, and breaks my heart."

"He may die. He may die never having known you carry his child. Is this really what you wish?" Thranduil asked, voice and manner gentle.

"He will return, my lord. And when he does, he will fully realize all that he has fought for."

Thranduil nodded his acceptance, and returned his eyes to the spot where Legolas once was, but now, was gone.

**Author's Note:** _Please review!_


	24. Chapter XXIV A Road Less Travelled

**CHAPTER 24 **

**A ROAD LESS TRAVELLED**

**PART I**

Legolas's blue eyes rose higher and higher, viewing the mountain Caradhras in the distance with a feeling of doom. Capped in a snowy blanket with jagged cliffs leading nowhere, Legolas thought it looked menacing even at night, its peak wrapped with a ghostly halo. Much had he heard through the ages of the mountain's tyrannical nature to all trespassers on its icy rock.

Many weeks had passed since Legolas had left Mithryn and his home. The Fellowship had set out not long after his return to Rivendell, and thus began their long journey together.

Upon the waning of the golden orb, the Fellowship once again packed up their belongings and started on another lengthy day's journey west of the Misty Mountains. Each day on this course was rough and difficult, especially for the Hobbits. Never did they complain, but Legolas frequently gazed at the anguish upon their faces. Cold and desolate was the land, for which they all now knew the reason. No creature, good or evil, could possibly live in this barren wasteland for long. Its icy winds and lack of shelter provided too arduous a struggle for life to exist.

However fatigued the Hobbits were, nothing seemed to dampen their stomachs, Legolas thought. It was rare that Pippin never knew when a mealtime should be honoured, and thus at the time when supper would have been partaken in the Shire, he turned to Merry, saying, "Merry, I'm hungry. When do you think we'll stop?"

"Just a ways further," Gandalf said, answering for Meriadoc. "It is important that we keep moving as long as we can."

"Why?" asked Pippin so quietly only Merry and Legolas heard. "We never seem to get anywhere. Those towering mountains don't appear any closer in all the days we've been travelling toward them."

To Legolas's ancient eyes, Hobbits appeared little more than children. Two, named Merry and Pippin, continued to be droll and cheerful despite the cold, hunger, and ferociousness of their surroundings. Samwise was a faithful and trusted servant to his master, Frodo, and equally able to find humour in a pleasant tale or jest. The one Hobbit who appeared unlike the others was Frodo. Quiet and serious, he remained sadly aloof, perhaps unwilling, or unable to join in friendly conversation.

Much to Legolas's displeasure, another member of the Fellowship was a Dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin. Long had the Elves of Mirkwood quarrelled with the Dwarves under the Mountain, and lengthy disputes did not die easily. Many winters past, during the reign of Smaug, King Thranduil had imprisoned thirteen dwarven trespassers, Gimli's father, Gloin, included. It was made clear to Legolas that Gimli had not forgotten his father's brief incarceration at the Elves' hands.

"Ah, this cold, bitter wind!" the sturdy Dwarf growled as Aragorn sat adding tiny sticks to an already dying fire. "Its chill blows to the bone! But fear not, young Hobbits! Things could be worse," Gimli continued as a shivering Merry and Pippin raised their small faces up at him. "One could find oneself in a Mirkwood prison!" Gimli said, eyeing Legolas. "Dark and dank as you've never seen, young Pip. Ah, yes! Things could be much worse!"

Pippin's eyes widened in surprise as he glanced at the quiet elf, tall and mighty in his stance. "Elves have prisons?" Pip asked, naively.

"To be sure they do!" Gimli replied with so much enthusiasm he nearly stomped out Aragorn's struggling fire. "Surrounded by shadowy stone, and thick wooden doors with strong bars to block out nearly all light and warmth. Guards hover in all passageways, ready to POUNCE!"

Pippin and Merry shrunk backward at the unaccustomed tale of the Elves. Never had they heard such before.

"I think you exaggerate slightly, Dwarf," Legolas said with a glint in his eye.

"Oh, do I?" Gimli said, head bent back, face gazed brazenly up at Legolas. "Then I suppose you've spent many comfortable nights in your own prison cells, Elf!"

It was at this moment Gandalf felt prudent to interrupt the somewhat embittered argument. "Let past wrongs amongst friends be forgotten," he said in his gentle, gruff voice. "Surely we fight for the same cause now. There is little satisfaction that Legolas can pay you, Gimli. He fought for the freedom of Dwarves at the Battle of the Five Armies. Is this not enough?"

"Well," grumbled Gimli, relenting and stepping away, "I suppose when you put it like that, Gandalf. We Dwarves are never one to forget a past friendship. Even if we are imprisoned by our so-called allies."

Gandalf was glad that Legolas merely sighed and chose not to comment on Gimli's rendition, thus avoiding the fuel to his fiery temper.

Pippin turned to Merry, whispering softly, but not missed by Legolas's keen ears, "Merry, did you know the Elves had prisons?"

"No, but it makes sense, don't it? Even Elves have enemies, don't they?" Merry replied just as quietly.

"Fear not, young Pippin," Legolas said, startling both Hobbits. "Never would you see the inside of our cells."

Pip nodded, staring up at the soft, elven eyes in awe. Legolas stepped away; his face turned upwards gazing at the sky which was littered with twinkling stars.

"Elves sure have keen ears, don't they Pip?" Merry said when he believed Legolas was finally out of earshot.

Stepping onto the cold, hardened earth, and staring into the celestial dome above him, Legolas shied away from his companions and thought of Mithryn. He had done the same each night that the weather allowed, and was deeply disappointed when blackened clouds kept him from his only joy.

Boromir, a man of Gondor, and companion of the Fellowship, strode near, collecting twigs for Aragorn's fire. He was a tall, powerful man, with hair the colour of bark, his clothes displaying the mark of Gondor and his father, Steward of Gondor. Eying Legolas warily at first, he made no comment of his intrusion. Little did he know of Elves, and even less was his trust. Mirkwood was a place distant from his father's marbled halls in Minas Tirith, and the forest continued to be shrouded in mystery and ancient folk tales. Elrond had asked him to accompany the Fellowship and he had accepted without a moment's consideration. He could not agree with the decision of the Council, but nonetheless, felt a strong desire to protect the One Ring from Sauron, his greatest foe.

Long had Sauron's slaves and soldiers attacked Gondor's borders and towns, murdering his people, burning fields and homes to ashes. Gondor, as elsewhere in Middle Earth, felt the end drawing near. The remedy to all his plights and all his anguish was so near to him now, and yet, so far away.

Legolas, face and hair glowing in the velvety moonlight, turned and gazed at Boromir, only then taking his notice.

"You Elves are incessantly staring at the stars," Boromir said, grasping more fagots and loading them up in his arms. "I do not understand this love affair you have with them...endless songs and poems. I saw countless Elves worshipping them in Rivendell. Tell me, Legolas, what comfort do they give you? They are as cold and bleak as the wind."

Legolas thought a moment before replying. His eyes rose once more into the night sky, and staring into the beatific lights, he smiled. Mithryn, he could feel, was so close. The mithril pendant he wore around his neck, which she had given him upon their wedding, warmed his chest, a constant reminder of her love and devotion. Eärendil glittered down upon him, whispering words of consolation and solace. "The stars give me great comfort, Boromir," Legolas said, turning to see bewilderment in his steely eyes. "They go where I go. They can be hidden, shielded by magic and evil, but they are forever there, constant and resolute. My heart is with them."

Boromir stood gaping at Legolas, "I pity you, Legolas. You give your heart to the stars, and nothing will they ever give in return. Cannot you see that it is all in vain?"

Legolas made no reply, and Boromir strode off, adding his newfound meager twigs to the tiny, smouldering blaze.

"Pay no heed to him," Aragorn said as he stepped out of the darkness and joined Legolas under the creamy moonlight.

"I will not," Legolas assured, "but he is a person strange to me. Though I have lived long to the minds of mortals, man is a race peculiar." Aragorn shot Legolas a wry smile as if to take it personally, him being a mortal man. "Oh, not you, my friend. But Boromir...his bitterness is unmistakable. It is I who pity him."

"I feel his despair. Gondor, as you know, has been the dog at Sauron's heels. Beaten and kicked, they are left alone to fend for themselves. But, no more."

"Of what do you mean, Aragorn?"

"There is another reason for my going upon this journey. I mean to claim what is rightfully mine at last," Aragorn said as he stood tall and proud and with all the magnificence of a thousand kings.

"You intend to affirm your throne and give Gondor a king once more?" Legolas asked. Aragorn nodded proudly. "Then, I shall aid you in your pursuit, my old friend. Long have I wished you to do this," Legolas said, grasping Aragorn on his muscular shoulder.

"Long have I fought against it, but I see now that fight was in vain. I shall call the spirits of my forefathers to my side. Their wisdom and courage will be my guides. At this moment, so near the end are we, I am the only reason they ever existed."

"Do you feel we are truly at the end? Do you see Sauron's forces covering all Middle Earth in a cloak of darkness?" Legolas said, woefully.

Aragorn turned to him, smiling. "Not while goodness on this earth has strength left! If we are to fail, then we shall fail fighting. Do not be downcast! To succeed, we must believe we can."

"I believe we can."

"Then we shall." Aragorn smiled, appearing like his old self again, the scraggly Ranger. Together, they returned to the weak fire, and all the Fellowship members huddled close for its much-needed warmth to their spirits before they packed up and resumed their harrowing journey west.

**PART II**

None had taken the departure of Mirkwood's first son and heir lightly, least of all Haldof. He had brooded for many days and nights, speaking to none until, at long last, he slowly began to crawl out of his seclusion and focus on his own cause: his home. Far from forgiving his disillusioned brother, Haldof spoke naught of Legolas and refused conversation when his name was mentioned. Thranduil, merely happy that Haldof had finally emerged from his shroud of isolation, refrained from forcing the subject upon him.

Emerged, yes, but in a bleak disposition, as many noted. His duties seemed his sole interest, and during dinner festivities or gatherings, it did not escape anyone's attention that a gloomy cloud seemed to follow Haldof incessantly, casting forlorn shadows onto his pale, beautiful face.

It had been nearly six weeks since Legolas's departure, and the forest was well into winter. No snow fell, but icy winds blew mercilessly, and fires burned unceasingly upon every hearth. All of the forest, save some deer and the noble Elven people, had fallen into its lengthy, wintertime slumber and lay quietly dormant. Life returned to normal for the kingdom and Legolas was spoken of as a hero of unparalleled measure by everyone with all the love and affection in their hearts. No word had come from the traveller, though, and none waited for any such news. Legolas was far from forgotten, but in general, not believed to ever return.

Galamed, too, missed his brother dearly. More elves had parted for the west, and with them, he sent a loving letter to his long-departed mother. He spoke of the forest and friends, of family and foes, but of Legolas and his quest, he could not. Try as he might, the words refused to flow from his pen and, thus, remained unwritten. Anardil, his love and betrothed had, worryingly, noticed Galamed's decline.

"You are so quiet as of late, my love," Anardil said as she strolled with her beloved under the barren branches. "Will you not share your thoughts with me?"

Galamed heard her gentle words, but could not do what she asked. His thoughts had lately been filled with visions of anguish and horror which he believed to be his brother's fate. He shook his head, nay, and she did not press him.

Without warning, Haldof rushed headlong through the undergrowth, face distorted with disdain. Grunting a salutation, he walked past the couple paying little heed to their existence.

"Ho, Haldof!" Galamed called, which halted his brother in his reckless tracks. "Why do you flee?"

"I have not time for this!" Haldof exclaimed striding further away.

"Father wishes to see you!" Galamed called out to the escaping Haldof.

"I do not wish to see him!" was Haldof's reply. Galamed chuckled slightly at his brother's displeasure, which seemed to shock his betrothed.

"How can you laugh? I have never seen him so out of humour."

"Haldof is always out of humour. One never knows the cause. I find it amusing to see him so disgruntled. Legolas would too, if he were here. In point of fact, he would be the first to poke fun!"

"Now you are teasing me," she said, smiling warmly.

"Indeed not!" Galamed replied, eyes twinkling with delight.

"How is he taking Legolas's departure?" she asked in a manner more solemn.

Galamed's face was cast into sombreness once more. "With difficulty, as are we all. However, I fear for Haldof's sake, more than any other, having to bear Legolas's leaving. I know it appears that he is just short-tempered, but in actuality, I know him to be in utter misery. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I should not make light of him."

Anardil drew him close in a tight embrace. Neither the love nor compassion in all her heart for Galamed could ease his sorrow. "How painful to see one you love so distraught," she thought to herself, "and be helpless to lessen it."

Meanwhile, Haldof had unwittingly bolted from one uncomfortable situation into another. Far from his wanting to intrude and be forced to converse with Galamed and his betrothed, he escaped merely to physically collide with Mithryn, nearly knocking her over.

"I beg your pardon, Mithryn," he said, softer than he had spoken to his own kindred not a moment ago. "Did I harm you?"

"Nay, thank you, Haldof," she replied, grasping his arm in support as she steadied herself. Her pregnant condition had, of course, been thoroughly circulated, which seemed to bring a newfound joy where there had been only despair. The emptiness Legolas had left was soon to be filled by his child and heir to the throne, and all were heartily delighted with the prospect.

At twenty weeks along, Mithryn calculated, it was not surprising to see the beginning of that already beloved child as her mid-section had begun to be more prominent. Her figure was, in fact, well hidden under a thick coat requested by order of the king. Elves were not as troubled by cold and chill as mortals and, thus, Thranduil made a point to display every delicacy of feeling toward her, taking care that his new daughter and grandchild were well provided and cared for as Legolas surely would have wished.

Though her figure was concealed, Haldof's first alarm upon his collision with her was to the possible harm of his future niece or nephew. "Are you certain?" he enquired sceptically.

"Aye, I am certain," she said, smiling at the softer side of Haldof which she had not witnessed for many months.

Haldof stood a moment gazing at her, mind turning in thought before exclaiming, "Why are you out unescorted? What if some accident should befall you? You should not be so careless!"

Mithryn stared at him blankly before replying, "You mean, if someone were to career into me and I sustain an injury?"

Blushing, Haldof at first made no reply with the exception of a darkened look. "It was an accident," he replied at length, foul mood grasping hold once more.

"To be sure. Farewell!" she bade as she turned, leaving him slightly bewildered.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," she replied, somewhat bewildered also.

"You should rest! You are in no condition to be careening around the wild!" he said vigorously.

A smile once again touched her lips, "I assure you, Haldof, that I am in the best of health. Pray, think of me no further. Narbeleth has said that walks would do me good."

"You should not be alone!" Haldof replied irritably. "However, I am not your husband! You may do what you wish!" With a huff of indignation, he turned and strode away.

But not far. A sharp cry of pain was unmistakable, coming from where he had left Mithryn. Hastening back to the spot, he discovered her on the cold earth, curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around her head. She wept softly; eyes tightly clenched, small moans of pain escaping her.

"Mithryn, what is it? Oh, pray tell me! You are injured? I knew it!" he said, placing his tender hands on her back, but she seemed not to perceive him for no reply did she give. Several anguished moments elapsed slowly in which Haldof sat at her side at a loss as to what action he should take. Running for aid seemed his instinct, yet he was reluctant to leave her side in her present condition. For those darkened moments, lasting an eternity for him, he beseeched Eärendil, though hidden by an azure sky. "Help me!" he whispered. "Give me guidance!"

He was repaid by seeing Mithryn's breathing return to its normal rhythm, and her leaf-green eyes open slowly to consciousness. She sat up; minds eye still reeling and disposition much shook. Not, it would seem however, as much as Haldof, who sat gaping at her in obvious distress.

Plain was the agitation on his face and, instinctively, Mithryn rested her trembling hand upon his, saying, "Do not worry. I am already improved. Cannot you see?" He seemed pale and listless. His brow furrowed with worry, but no words did he speak. "Rest assured, Haldof, I am not so much at death's door." Enlightenment suddenly rested its wings upon her and she hastily said, "My pain was none of your making, I assure you! I am unclear if you are aware, but on occasion, a great quake enters my mind but it never lasts long. I can already feel it retreating from me."

"Are you certain?" he said in so small a voice Mithryn barely heard him.

"They have happened all my life. Honestly."

This new information eased him slightly, but the worried look upon his face was unchanged. "Is it rest you wish? Or perhaps to see Narbeleth?"

"Nay, your father. I must speak with him," she said rising, but her weakened knees buckled under her own weight. He caught her effortlessly, holding her steady.

"To be sure, but allow me to take you. You are still unwell."

Relenting, she walked beside him as he shouldered her weight with ease.

The king was sitting peacefully in his study re-examining a pile of letters upon his thick, oak table. Each letter gave him discomfort as they contained news of disquiet in Esgaroth, a town not far from his grand halls. King Brand had little but disconcerting news to tell.

The abrupt opening of his door tore Thranduil out of his repose, and he sat bewildered at the furore that entered his solitude. In rushed Haldof with Mithryn draped on his side. She was conscious but seemed greatly unwell. "Ai, what has happened?" he enquired, rising and helping his son place her gently into one of his richly upholstered chairs.

"I struck into her," Haldof admitted, uneasily. Thranduil cast him a look of disapproval only to have Haldof hastily add, "By accident!"

Thranduil's look remained, but vanished quickly when he turned his attention toward Mithryn who appeared much more comfortable seated by the king's cosy fire. "Now, Mithryn, what happened?" he asked, sitting next to her.

Mithryn glanced toward Haldof, unsure if it was appropriate to speak in his presence. What she had to tell was of such a nature that it would perhaps be prudent for the king's ears alone.

The meaning of her glance was not mistaken, but Thranduil replied, "Have no fear of Haldof. If you do not mind, I wish him to stay."

Haldof was most touched by his father's words and all this furtive behaviour on Mithryn's part succeeded in whetting his appetite for what she deemed so secret.

"Indeed, I do not mind," she lied. "My lord, I had another vision."

"Go on," Thranduil gently coaxed.

Haldof opened his mouth in question but was the wiser, and promptly closed it. Mithryn cleared her throat, and gazed at the ageless eyes of the king. "I saw a battle, my lord, such as I have never seen before."

"Who were fighting? Orcs?" Thranduil enquired.

Nodding, Mithryn continued: "There were so many; thousands upon thousands. A sea of savage filth." Swallowing the lump in her dry throat, she paused to find the words. "Bodies, my lord. There were so many!"

"Who? Men?"

"Nay, my lord. They were Elves," she replied in a voice so quiet and sad it was barely heard.

"Wait...Elves?" Haldof bellowed. "You say you saw the bodies of Elves? Where? Mordor?" he demanded.

Thranduil did not attempt to quieten him for his thoughts drifted along the same river of thought.

"Nay," she replied, her body beginning to tremble. "Not Mordor. Here. I am certain of it. The battle will take place in Mirkwood."

That was an answer neither Elf had foreseen. "Here?" Haldof repeated, and strayed into deep meditation.

"Here? You are certain?" Thranduil asked, acutely troubled.

"It was unmistakable. I saw mountains, trees. Mirkwood has been my home for nearly eighty years. I recognized it immediately when I saw it."

Haldof shook his head, disbelieving, "Perhaps Rivendell?" he suggested to his contemplative father.

"Nay, Rivendell is distinctive...waterfalls, great canyons of which we have none; not to mention, Rivendell is a great fortress. Elrond bears a ring of power. It would not be overthrown lightly and Sauron knows this. No, not Rivendell."

"Lothlórien?"

"Listen to what I tell you!" she implored. "The dead in my vision were soldiers bearing your emblem, my lord! The attack will fall upon Mirkwood!"

This was detail even Haldof did not attempt to argue. There was to be no mistaking Thranduil's guards. Every Elven house in Middle Earth: Mirkwood, Rivendell, and Lothlórien, had unique emblems.

"So the battle will transpire here," Thranduil replied. "So be it. In fact, perhaps it shall be the saving of us for we can be prepared as never before. Mithryn," he said, with a newfound thirst for information, "come, you must tell me everything you can possibly remember. Every detail is important. When shall this battle take place?"

Mithryn sat baffled. "I do not know, my lord. Sometimes it is far into the future I see. Decades. Other times, it is but moments before. I can never tell."

"Much use this is!" Haldof said savagely, but Thranduil paid no heed.

"You said you saw trees. Is that correct? Were there any leaves on them, or were they barren?"

Mithryn's mind turned inward, replaying the images in her mind. "They were barren, my lord. It was dark, nightfall, I believe, but the trees were empty!"

Thranduil sat back and exclaimed, "Why, that could be any day now! There is little time to prepare but it may be enough. You have done well, my child. I am prodigiously proud of you!"

"Father, it could be twenty years from now! I see not how this news aids us!" Haldof exclaimed.

"Haldof," Thranduil replied irritably, "It would not be so far into the future as you think. As you know, the One Ring is being taken to the fires of Mount Doom as we speak. It shall not take them twenty years to complete their mission!"

"Suppose their mission fails, and Sauron himself comes to overthrow our realm!"

Thranduil turned to Mithryn for aid and she was quick to respond. "Nay, Haldof. I saw a great presence of Orcs, but not Sauron. It is true that I do not know what he looks like, but I would imagine I would know if I saw him."

"There!" Thranduil replied, himself convinced. "Depend upon it, this battle will take place before the destruction of the One Ring! Sauron has been strengthening his forces. Evil is surging in Dol Guldur once more. Sauron will wage a war to slay us once and for all, but he shall fail! We shall be equipped for our final fight and we shall prevail!"

**Author's Note:** _If you like what you're reading, please let me know with a short review!_


	25. Chpater XXV Reason Behind The Madness

**CHAPTER 25**

**REASON BEHIND THE MADNESS**

**PART I**

Nothing in all Legolas's long life had prepared him for the unending dark of Moria. Elves, by nature, craved fresh air, space, light, living earth, and would each have felt as he did in this hell cavity of a mine and held it in abhorrence. It was not his desire to enter it, and not for all the mithril held within would he return again.

As they had been heading steadily east, the Fellowship found their way barred on the Mount of Caradhras. Try as they might, they could go no further and, thus, had but one choice: to travel beneath the summit through the mines of Moria.

Elves did not tread there any longer. Nor, indeed, did the Dwarves. Orcs were still believed to dwell in its ancient, crumbling halls, but it was unknown how many. In days of old when Elves and Dwarves were friends and allies, they shared it, and it was not a place held in fear. However, the Dwarves delved too deeply in the mountain trove, awakening a creature so old and terrible, all who knew its name held it in great dread: a Balrog. This creature, engulfed in flame and with a might so powerfully destructive, was deemed invincible by all.

Legolas knew of the creature lying in the depths, but spoke of it to none. Hobbits, he had noticed, frightened easily and knowledge of such a creature would, no doubt, haunt their dreams. He could not be so cruel.

Even so, it was with great caution and quietness that the nine companions travelled day and night through the incessant dark. Indeed, even Legolas was unsure when last the sun had risen, so long had they been engulfed in this oppressive shadow.

Hobbits too, though resembling Dwarves somewhat in stature, had more likeness to Elves with their love of fields and streams. Hobbits could discover nothing to love about Moria, with its dirty passageways and cold stone, and thus were inclined to be frightened at every loose pebble and dark silhouette where something evil might be lurking.

"This is dreadful, this is, Master Frodo," Samwise said, as he walked along behind his master. "When we get out of 'ere, a comfy Hobbit hole is the farthest I wish to tread back underground ever again."

"You do not care for mines?" asked Gimli, bewildered. "Ah, but you are young, and have not spent much time in mines. Alas that we cannot now delve into the deeper parts!" On Gimli went, enthralled with all there was to do with a mine. The remainder of the Fellowship grinned, listening to him talk so.

Frodo turned toward Sam, saying quietly, "I must say I am a little glad that we will not have the time to tour the diamond colliery, though, I have not the heart to tell him so."

"A wise decision, I think, Frodo," Legolas whispered, amused. "I fear his wrath if it became known that we were not all equally as enchanted with this dark abyss as he is."

Snickering, Frodo and Sam marched on with the others in single file, and soon all fell quiet once more. The companions, advancing onward, were led by Gandalf and his luminous staff. They entered a high chamber whose walls were spread so wide Gandalf's light was not fervent enough to reach them. All was quiet in the hall of stone, and then a sinister apprehension swept over the company.

"I do not believe we are alone," Pippin whispered uneasily.

A flash of glowing, sallow eyes lit up a corner just for a moment, but Frodo had seen it. "There!" he pointed, shouting, "In the corner!"

An Orc leapt from its veil of obscurity, lunging at the troupe. Pippin screeched in terror, but Legolas was quick to draw his bow and, before the filthy creature had taken two steps, it plummeted lifelessly onto the stone floor, an elven arrow in its throat. Pippin looked about sheepishly. He had not meant to cry out so, but all were kind to his fright as they stepped closer to gaze at the still beast.

"You have never seen an Orc, I'll wager, young Peregrin," Gandalf said soothingly in his husky voice. "How I wish this was to be your last."

Pippin gazed up at the old wizard and then down again at the grotesqueness of the dead Orc. Tales of Orcs he had heard, mostly from Bilbo, but it had been quite a different experience to see one with his own eyes.

"A deserter?" Boromir suggested.

"Perhaps a scout," Aragorn added. "When it does not return, others may go in search of it."

"More?" Merry enquired in a small voice.

"More," Aragorn confirmed.

Pippin and Merry both swallowed the lumps found suddenly in their throats.

"Should we not perhaps attempt to hide him?" Legolas suggested, though not at all wishing to touch the foulness of so vile a creature. "There was a large pile of loose stones we passed."

All agreed this would be the wisest course, and Gandalf and Boromir waited with the Hobbits while Legolas and Aragorn dealt with the Orc's body.

A dark stain of black blood was all that remained of the encounter, and the Hobbits shifted uneasily as they awaited the return of their two friends. Gandalf, looking upon them with pity, offered words of comfort. "If I could but spare you all from the ugliness of this world, I would do it willingly, without pause for thought. There is much I wish you did not have to face, and I am saddened to say that this is but the beginning of our formidable adventure together. Be strong. Take heart, dear friends."

"I feel silly for ever desiring adventure," Frodo said, woefully.

Boromir listened with an acute ear, only now realizing what manner of life and existence the Hobbits had known until now: no battles, no dangers. They neither felt the threat of Mordor, nor saw the explosions of Mount Doom from their bedroom windows. They lived quietly aloof from the rest of Middle Earth; how he envied their innocent existence.

Legolas and Aragorn hastily returned and they all resumed their expedition with eyes even more wary to the dark shadows of the mine.

Hours passed, yet no more Orcs were seen or heard. Hopes were still held high of their passing without discovery, but for the tiniest of noises that Legolas continually heard behind him. They had stopped finally for much needed rest, and Legolas volunteered for the first watch. For much of this time, no movement or noise was heard, until the smallest sound of shuffling was audible to his sensitive, pointed ears. Too dark to see in the blackness of the underworld, he caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes which quickly vanished from sight. He armed himself with lightening speed; his bow ready to shoot. Aragorn stirred beside him, and opened his eyes.

"I see eyes," Legolas whispered, "far off. We are being followed."

"More Orcs?" Aragorn suggested softly under his breath, rising.

"Perhaps," Legolas replied. "It is too dark to tell."

"Not an Orc," Gandalf said, wisely and calmly, rising also. "It is Gollum. I have felt his presence these few hours."

"This concerns me, Gandalf," Legolas said, careful that his voice not travel through the empty chambers. "Gollum has made friends with the Orcs. He is a liability to our mission."

"I must agree," Aragorn said quietly. "Our journey is wrought with peril. Gollum, I feel, is too treacherous to be trusted. He may alert our enemies."

"It will be quick," Legolas assured, aiming his bow. "He will feel little pain."

Aragorn spoke, "You are wise, Gandalf, and have a superior understanding. We look to your judgement in this."

Gandalf thought a moment, but replied, "Your feelings do you both credit; however, I feel reluctant to kill him, wretched though he is. I do not fear his betrayal, for we carry the one thing he covets. Never would he put his precious at risk of returning to its Master. Though I cannot explain it, or even understand it, I feel Gollum has some part yet to play before all of this is over."

Allowing his bow to drop, Legolas replied, "So be it. I must say, I always felt immense pity for the wretch. I cannot imagine what he must have endured, having the Ring in his keeping so long. I saw him in Mirkwood before he had slipped from our grasp. I only hope our pity will prove to be propitious, my friend."

Aragorn nodded. "I have had sleep enough. Pray, you both take more rest. I shall have the next watch."

Gandalf and Legolas accepted his offer, and both lay down on the hard, cold stone and once again attempted sleep. No more was heard or seen of Gollum that night.

**PART II**

When word came from the king of an expected invasion, the people of his realm set quickly to work. Elves laboured through night and day, stopping little for rest, tirelessly striving to create a stronghold worthy of resisting any attack, save that of Sauron himself, perhaps. Entrapments were created. Great pits were dug and cleverly covered concealing inescapable, deadly hollows. Great stones wrapped with sturdy vines were hauled to the treetops. Knives were sharpened razor thin for lethal expediency. More guards were posted and a substantial number of weapons were commissioned. In less than a week, Thranduil felt comfortable that they could repulse any assault on their land.

In those days, all merrymaking and festivities ceased. As Elven men toiled throughout the land, Elven women took to the kitchens, preparing nourishing meals which could be carried as far as the sentries at the borders and not spoil. Chattering courageously amongst themselves, they packed fresh, flat breads, cheeses, slices of smoked venison, crimson coloured berry preserves, and jugs filled with nectar-sweet spring water. Others made bandages and medicines following Narbeleth's and Mithryn's instruction. Mithryn enthusiastically took part in all preparations wishing to make herself useful, much to the annoyance of the king. He had eyes that saw her fatigue grow daily. Long was her resting period, and yet, she could not walk great distances without aggravating her aching back. A twinge of anxiety he felt in thinking of her, and thus, called her forth to him.

"You need not work so labouriously, my dear," he appealed to her, gently. "Pray, why do you not sit and rest?"

"I would rather work, my lord, if you do not object. It is true that I tire easily, but I promise to stop if the pain becomes too great."

"You have pain, then?" he enquired, an ache in his own heart beginning to throb.

"At times. It is no worry. It will merely take longer to heal than expected," she said, carelessly. Thranduil nodded his head, choosing to make no comment. After a moments silence, she continued, "May I return to my work, Sire?"

With his leave, she turned and joined the Elf-matrons waiting nearby. Thranduil motioned for one to come to him; a tall, beautiful matron of indeterminable age, with long, flowing hair the colour of golden sunshine. "Silmethúle," he said quietly, upon her bowing to him, "under no circumstances is the Lady Mithryn permitted to carry anything beyond the weight of a goblet."

Bowing her understanding, she replied in her silvery voice, "Aye, your Majesty."

He nodded, and she flitted back to the group, at once relieving Mithryn of her burden. Thranduil expected her to make objection, which she heartily did, but Silmethúle paid no heed to her protests, and thus, Thranduil was satisfied.

The task of overseeing all the fortifications fell to the king's three youngest sons. They embraced their responsibilities vigorously, delegating the workforce and devising new methods of defence. Busy had they been, but gradually the workload lessened and their demanding task was nearing completion.

The three brothers stood together arguing boisterously concerning the placement of a giant sling meant to entrap Orcs by hoisting them off the ground. Tarnil, who had grown fatigued of the dispute long ago, saw Mithryn approach surrounded by Elven-ladies and brought the quarrel to an abrupt end by way of changing the subject. "Look! There is Mithryn now! Should we not say something to her?"

"For what reason?" Haldof said irritably, his mind still focussed on the sling.

"Why, for her prophetic warning, of course!" Tarnil said, incredulously. "If not for her, think how ill-prepared we would have been for the Orc assault!"

"Ha!" Haldof rebuffed. "You do not believe such tall tales, Brother? I certainly do not!"

Tarnil and Galamed exchanged bemused looks before Galamed said: "And what reason have we to not believe her, Haldof? I know not of any. Pray, enlighten us!"

Haldof snorted, "An attack was to be expected, surely!"

"I am not so certain," said Tarnil, dubiously. "Besides which, Father seems a pretty adamant believer of these visions of hers. If he has no cause to doubt her, why should we?"

"I do not doubt that she has...abilities," Haldof said, yielding slightly, "but as for seeing the future? Pray, if she has, what else has she seen that we know not of?" The words had just escaped his lips when the answer formed in his brain: Legolas. She had seen Legolas. His mind reeled. Suddenly, it all made sense! His sudden departure, her unwillingness to speak, her obstinacy on his staying; it was all so clear to him now! She had seen his joining the Fellowship and, far from attempting to save his brother, her own husband, she had let him go to his doom! Nay, it was too much! His stomach turned. He could hear faint voices calling his name which he assumed to be Tarnil and Galamed's, but no heed could he pay to them now, knowing what he now suspected!

Tarnil and Galamed, however, watched their brother transform before their eyes. One moment he was his hot, embittered self, the next appearing stricken with some illness which certainly was not to be believed for Elves do not fall ill. "Haldof? What is it?" Galamed enquired gently; but Haldof appeared locked in thought, saying nothing for a long while.

Not knowing how to shatter his trance, Tarnil decided on a brotherly fashion and promptly elbowed Haldof in his ribs. The tactic worked, but far from cursing his brother for his abuse, he merely stated his wish to speak to their father immediately.

He strode a few steps before swiftly turning about, demanding, "Well? Are you coming or not?!

Thinking even this behaviour to be unlike their brother, they followed, curious as to his anxiety. What answers did he wish to discover from their father, pray?

They found their father outside the palace observing the progress and the comings and goings of his people with continued interest. Great foreboding did he feel upon seeing Haldof charging toward him, his manner dark and dangerous like a cornered wild beast. Before Haldof could breathe a word, however, Thranduil held up his hand, silencing his sons, saying, "I see you wish to speak with me. By the look on your face, Haldof, I think we should retire indoors, do you not?" The king did not wait for a reply, but promptly turned and his sons followed him into the great receiving hall. The fire had died, unfortunately, but Thranduil did not request it be relit in hope they would not tarry long.

"Well, my son? What is it you wish to say to me?"

Haldof, straining to keep his composure, asked: "Tell me, Father, once and for all. Did Mithryn foresee Legolas's future?"

"Yes," Thranduil answered blatantly, sitting down. "I saw no reason to tell you."

"You knew?" Tarnil asked, softly. "You knew, and yet you sent him?"

"You deliberately sent him to his death! And for what?!" Haldof exploded.

"Father," Galamed said, "I think we should have been informed."

"Attempt to see my side," Thranduil replied calmly. "I sent him to Rivendell with a message, yes. What ensued while he was there was none of my making. He was offered an opportunity; he accepted. I could not in good conscience withhold this right from him, no matter where my heart lies. I would have done as much for any of you, and I hope you understand my judgment."

"And what of Mithryn? Has she bewitched your senses too? Oh, I wish she had never come here!" Haldof exclaimed, face contorted with rage.

"You are looking for someone to blame, Haldof, but you will find no such person here. I regret not having said this before, but I understand your pain and frustration. You must be made to know that you are not the only person who loves Legolas. We all care for him. We are all deeply fearful for his sake, but you cannot control his life more that he can control yours." Thranduil rose and approached Haldof whose face softened with his father's heartfelt words. "You are not alone, my son. Not anymore."

It was simply too much. All the vexation, all the anguish at last boiled over. He could fight it no longer. A great sob escaped Haldof, and he wept against his beloved father's shoulder.

**Author's Note:** _Pease let me know if you're enjoying this with a short review!_


	26. Chapter XXVI The Lady Galadriel

**CHAPTER 26**

**THE LADY GALADRIEL **

**PART I**

Haldof's manner was much changed after the conversation with his father. Mithryn had noticed it at once, and gazed upon him with suspicion. His usual icy stare and scornful inclination were replaced with soft eyes which appeared penitent and sad. Since the beginning of her acquaintance with her brother-in-law, she understood his moods to be erratic and was, therefore, warily expectant of a swift change as the sea changes tides.

Days passed, and no such change came. They did not speak, but occasionally their eyes met, and he actually smiled! She found his behaviour most bewildering! "Any moment he shall find fault and shout at me, and then all will resume as it was," she thought to herself. "At least then I shall know what to expect from him!"

Her happiest moments were when she held Finaviel in her arms; such an adorable baby, so cuddly and happy! She felt her own child grow within her, bonding with her already, and longed for the day when she would hold Legolas's child in her arms. Strolling under the naked, sleeping trees, she carried the babe, and smiled down upon her young face.

Haldof had been walking past with no notion of stopping or speaking to her until he beheld what she carried. Instantly he strode over and asked to hold the child. Mithryn acquiesced for, frequently, people asked to hold Finaviel, lovely and sweet as she was. However, not a moment had passed that Haldof cradled the babe when he said, "You should not be carrying her, Mithryn. Frankly, I am surprised at Elmarin for burdening you with her." His voice was firm, but not harsh. Also, there was a gentleness in his tone which seemed unfamiliar to her.

"It was not Elmarin's doing," she defended. "She is busy with work at the southeast boarder in preparation for war. I relieved the maid, and took Finaviel. I see no cause for worry."

"You know as well as I do that my father would not approve," he said as the child tugged on Haldof's long, golden hair with her tiny, chubby hand.

"You and the king are forever making my illness out to be more than what it is. I am no invalid, I assure you. I am not in need of your protection." That word "protection" startled her when it escaped her lips. At once she saw Haldof was her protector. How strange it seemed!

"While Legolas is away it is our duty to see you safe. Legolas would do the same for me."

"Haldof, you have no wife," she replied, dryly.

"That is neither here nor there. The king has commanded that you do not strain yourself. If I abetted you in doing this, you would put me in the outs with him and that I cannot allow."

"Oh, very well," Mithryn said, flustered. "I see I cannot win against you."

Haldof nodded in agreement, and promptly turned and strode off, his charge carried effortlessly in his strong arms. Mithryn sat on a stone bench, watching Haldof retreat. Never had she seen his manner so open, so caring. She knew this to be the true beloved brother that Legolas held so dear. Yes, she was beginning to like him!

Overall, Haldof's manner had indeed undergone a great change, but, at times, his old, fiery temper flared up. When returning Finaviel to her nurse, he gave the young maiden such a frosty scold. It had certainly not been her intention to disobey the king! None had told her of his command, but Haldof would accept none of her excuses. At length he sent her away, and Galamed swiftly approached his brother after viewing the astonishing scene.

"I hope you never have cause to speak to me as you spoke to that poor girl! Of what was the necessity, Brother?"

"Ah," Haldof replied, waving his hand, "nothing of great importance. I may have spoken too strongly. Sorry, Brother, I cannot speak to you now. I have been long delayed already." He started to walk away, but Galamed caught his arm, preventing his escape.

"Nay, Haldof. Pray, I must speak with you."

Sighing, "Oh, very well. Though I fail to see what can be so urgent."

Galamed took an anxious deep breath, and took a moment to choose his words carefully as Haldof impatiently tapped his foot. "Do you recall when Legolas spoke for me to Father of my marriage to Anardil?"

"Aye, but that was many months ago. I have heard naught of it since. Did he not give his consent?"

"Nay, he did not," Galamed said, sorrowfully.

"Why?"

"I know not. Haldof, could you please approach him for us?"

Haldof shook his head. "Father would not listen to me, I fear. He thinks me impetuous."

Galamed could not deny what he knew to be the truth. "But could you not try? Haldof, I would do the same for you."

It was Galamed's beseeching eyes that won Haldof over in the end, and his assurances were given. Still, he was unsure of any change he could make in his father's ironclad will.

It was at dinner that night when Haldof chose to approach his father. The long table was set, and Haldof and Mithryn were honoured by seats each beside the king, both conversing lightly with him throughout their extensive meal. Haldof gazed down the lengthy table and, espying Galamed and his beloved side by side, was thus reminded of his promise.

"Father? Do you observe Galamed sitting there?"

"Aye."

Mithryn ate her fish quietly; her eyes only participating in the discussion.

"Do you not think he and Anardil make a fine match? See how happy they appear," Haldof said.

Thranduil, however, was not fooled. "What is the purpose of this conversation, son?"

"No real purpose. It is just...I have noticed...they are so much in love...perhaps they should marry."

"Tell me," Thranduil said in a silkily cool voice, "did Galamed ask you to speak to me?"

"Well...what if he did?"

"I see," the king replied, sitting back in his great chair made of walnut wood. Oak leaves with large acorns were carved on the arms, and Thranduil ran his smooth hands over them. Mithryn eyed his movements attentively. He did not seem pleased.

Haldof let his light air drop. "Father, why should they not marry?"

"There is a reason, Haldof."

"Really? What is it?" Haldof enquired, boldly.

Thranduil cast him a look of reproach before turning his gaze toward Mithryn who sat quietly watching the scene unfold. She desperately wanted to escape but knew not how to extricate herself at such an awkward moment. "Shall I leave?" she asked quietly, but received no reply and so remained seated.

"Cannot this wait until later?" Thranduil asked his son.

"We have naught to hide from Mithryn!" Haldof said with great feeling. "She is family, now."

Thranduil and Mithryn both blinked with surprise at Haldof's sudden change of heart toward Mithryn, and Thranduil had not time to reply before Haldof entreated his father again.

"What have you against the marriage? What are you not telling me?"

"I know you will find this difficult to understand, Haldof," Thranduil said, a note of sarcasm in his voice, "but not everything has to do with you. That marriage will never take place."

"But, why?"

"They are ill-suited."

"They do not appear..."

"Haldof," Thranduil swiftly interrupted. "Trust that I know what is best for my sons. Now, let that be the end of this discussion." Clapping his hands together, the rows of dinner guests at multiple tables fell quiet and the king commanded: "Music!"

Instruments struck up and Haldof fell silent once more. Nevertheless, Mithryn did notice that far from falling back into his darkened demeanor, Haldof turned and struck up a merry conversation with a pretty and charming elf to his right. No more was said of Galamed's plight, and she was left to wonder what could be so wrong with a couple so in love that the king blatantly forbade their wedlock.

That night she dreamt of Legolas. He was in the company of a great many men. The land was strange and open; the air clear and breezy. A strange sharp call came from above, and Legolas turned his head upward to see what creature would make such a cry. A gull!

Mithryn woke swiftly in a cold sweat. Immediately she reached to her right in search of Legolas and comfort only to find the bed empty and herself alone. Legolas was many miles away and likely never to return home. How she needed him at this moment! Rolling over to the solace of his space, she cried herself back to sleep.

**PART II**

It had been a long time, indeed, since Mirkwood's Elven folk had journeyed south of Dol Guldur and west to Lothlórien. The two houses had become estranged, but not so much that one had no more respect for the other. Legolas had hoped that one day he may travel to Lórien's wondrous forest, but now that he stood under its golden mallorn trees, his heart was saddened beyond repair. Voices, singing through the branches, swelled all around him, causing mournful images to float through his mind.

An elf approached him. He was tall, noble and fair with golden hair, and his clothing distinguished him as a Lórien elf, for this was his home. "You are all alone, Legolas. Ah, listen! They sing of him again."

"Forgive me, Haldir. It is simply that I cannot believe he is gone. I listen in attempt to persuade my disbelieving heart that it is true. Gandalf has perished."

"You are not alone in your feeling. The Lady Galadriel looks much aggrieved since you brought the news, as does your party. The little folk, Hobbits, they too appear very distraught by this loss. Indeed, it is a loss for us all."

"I cannot bear to think about it," Legolas said woefully, and turned his gaze instead to the stars peeping through the leafy rooftop. Mithryn flooded back into his consciousness. How close he was from home, yet so far away!

"Forgive me, Legolas, this is not the reason I am here. I am but a messenger. The Lady wishes to see you."

Legolas thought a moment before nodding his assent and followed Haldir. He knew not for what reason the Lady Galadriel, grandmother of Arwen, would wish to see him.

Haldir led him upwards ever higher and higher through the forest. He had been but a few days with the Elves, and living apart from his comrades, and he had never witnessed the passages through which Haldir now escorted him.

At last the topmost talon had been reached, and the crowns of the towering trees ceased at his shoulders. Legolas turned to see Galadriel approach, graceful, beautiful and mysterious. Shimmering lace seemingly dripped from her body as she moved. Never had he seen such a magnificent gown before. He bowed low, and Haldir humbly excused himself. Legolas and Galadriel were now alone.

"Legolas, I called you forth to speak with you. Tell me what effect a sight, such as this, has upon you?" Galadriel inquired, raising her arm up to the heavens.

Legolas turned his gaze upward to the vast expanse. Above him, the night sky burst with splendid light as neither cloud nor branch shielded the stars from their glistening glory. "My heart is eased. I feel hope," he replied, unsure of her meaning.

"Said with the true spirit of an elf," she replied, smiling slightly. "Why, then, did you choose to partake in this quest? Your heart, I see, wishes to be elsewhere, and yet you disregard its call."

"My Lady, I did not choose this quest; it chose me. It is true I left my beloved behind, but I fight for a greater purpose than my heart's desire."

Galadriel appeared to shoot straight through him with her penetrating gaze, reaching into the confines of his very soul. "Nay, Legolas. There are members of this quest who did not chose of themselves to be participants. They were chosen. You are not one. It was your choice to join this quest, though you knew it may claim your life. I am giving you the chance to leave. None will bear you any ill will. I am giving you a chance to return home to your wife. It is what you wish, is it not?"

Legolas, awed in her presence, at once contemplated her offer. How it called to him! Mithryn was so close, he could probably be by her side within a fortnight. Oh, how he missed her smile, her scent, her very being! The soft touch of her hands on his face haunted his dreams, and he longed to be near her, with her, never to be separated again.

But, his moment of bliss was short lived. His reason reminded his heart of promises, obligations and duties. His own personal desire was of little matter in times such as this. So many lives were at stake and, indeed, would be sacrificed; did his own life matter so very much? He did not think so. He knew his first choice to be the right one. He had accepted this quest to protect all that he loved and held dear. He may never see his love again, but he would be proud to die for her.

All the while, Galadriel had been eyeing him intently, as if reading his mind and spirit. "So you have made your choice?" she asked.

"I have," Legolas replied. "You offer a great deal and my heart desires it greedily, but my choice is made. My wife understands this."

"Aye, that is true, but you do not see the whole, Legolas. If your wife were ill, would you return? And if danger threatened your home and family, what then would your decision be?"

His eyes strained with sudden fear. What does she know? Surely, she has not received word from his father or Lord Elrond. Galadriel's power was immense. How much did she truly know, or was this simply another test of faith?

"You speak of possibilities which may occur in my absence. And yet, were I there to witness them, my presence would change little. I know not why you test my will and heart, but I do not protest. I believe the greatest test is yet to come."

"Of that you are correct, young Legolas. The greatest test shall not be made by me. However, I have no doubt of your loyalty and courage. It is my belief that you are most needed where you are. Remember to be careful, however. Our time here is coming to an end, and you fight not for us, but for those who will inherit this land. Your journey may bring more than you pledged for."

Galadriel seemingly floated away, ending their interlude. Legolas was left alone on the talan to decipher the Lady's cryptic warning. Try as he might, he did not understand, yet was left with a great sense of foreboding.

**Author's Note:** _Please review and let me know what you think!_


	27. Chapter XXVII The Brothers' Enlightenmen...

**CHAPTER 27**

**THE BROTHERS' ENLIGHTENMENT**

**PART I**

"Run, run!" Legolas commanded, and his body, like a gazelle, bounded forward. "Quick, there is no time to be lost! Already they are leagues ahead and gaining ground fast." Miles of rock and earth passed under his feet with his swift steps along with his two companions, steadfast beside him, all equal in heart and purpose.

Yes, two. Only two, for that is all that remained after the breaking of the Fellowship. Frodo and Sam chose a more dangerous course, alone to destroy their precious charge. Loath though Legolas was to admit it, he felt it probably the wisest decision.

Boromir...alas, poor Boromir who was slain defending his friends against certain death. Alas that he perished beside the Anduin on a fair winter day. Legolas's heart wept at the loss of another friend and comrade. An Elf's fate Boromir did not have, so Legolas hoped that his friend had found his way to the heavens of his people, and discovered his place beside the fire amongst his forefathers.

And Merry and Pippin, for whom Brormir fought so valiantly, were taken. Their situation appeared grave, indeed. Nonetheless, the remaining trio, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli followed suit, anxious to save their friends from the torturous rampage of the Uruk-Hai, Saruman's menacing slaves.

"Might we not pause for a moment's breath?" Gimli gasped. The land was free of trees, but abounded in boulders and sprays of stone. "Not that I require such rest, mind you. I was merely thinking of the Elf."

The company halted; a small line of dust was rising in the far distance which only Legolas's keen eyes could see. "I am rested enough since last night, thank you, Gimli," Legolas said.

"Aye, that was well nigh nine hours ago! A Dwarf's legs cannot bear such a pounding without stopping for a bite of food once and again," Gimli said, sitting on a rock, stubbornly.

"The day is short and it will be dark forthwith," Aragorn said. "We shall stop but a few minutes. I am hungry, also; loath though I am to think of food when our friends are in such peril. Our weak bodies, however, would be of little aid to them. It is wiser to eat now and gain strength."

Aragorn pulled a lembas loaf from his satchel, breaking off pieces and handing them to his companions. Gimli ate his heartily, while Legolas only nibbled on his, so attentively was he gazing at the path of their enemy; the path of the Uruk-Hai.

Aragorn stood beside him, chewing on his bit of lembas bread, eyes squinting to see what Legolas saw clearly.

"They move with swift speed and little rest," Legolas said. "Great evil is at work here."

"It is Saruman. Come, Gimli! Our time of rest has ended. Our path is clear, yet sunlight, too, escapes us. We must use each moment we can!"

"Aye, I am ready!" Gimli bellowed as he climbed onto his feet, and once again the company ran with renewed strength toward their enemy and friends.

That night the three at last stopped for rest again, reluctant though they were, as fears ran high of losing their trail in the dark. Such mistakes may cost them hours to make up, hindering them greatly. They would be off again at first light.

In the deep, dark hours of the night, Gimli woke Legolas for his shift, and the Dwarf, grumbling about the lumpy earth, rolled over and promptly fell asleep. His loud snoring was the surest sign of this. Legolas sat awake, eyes ever vigilant and bow ready. No sound, however, did Legolas ever hear at night in

these barren fields of North Rohan. No bird, nor field mouse moved. In the meadow's vastness, all that lived here were the hostile rocks and forbidding winds.

He turned his face upward, but sadly, the sky was swathed in cloud, concealing the starlights. No moon showed his face, and thus they huddled in darkness, the only light coming from Legolas's bright eyes. At length, Legolas slipped his hand into his doublet, drawing out the necklet which was given to him on

the night of his wedding. Naught but the outline could barely be seen in the velvety dimness, but it caressed his hand, giving off an alluring warmth and a lonely comfort that the stars denied this night.

Galadriel had given him the chance to return home, yet he had refused. Despite knowing his choice to be the right one, his mind was forever plagued with the chill of her prescient, cryptic warnings. He feared for his home, his wife, and his people. Praying to Eärendil for their safety was all he could do now. That, and vowing to commit everything in his being to the success of this mission...even if it meant his very life.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun breached the hillock in the distance, casting a light of yellow gold over the land. The cool air warmed a little, and Gimli and Aragorn began to stir. Legolas reverently retuned the medallion, forever keeping it beside his beating heart.

**PART II**

Mithryn had done as her king had bade her, and not lifted anything weighty for several days. Try as she might, she could not help resenting the restriction. She knew her duty, and had tried to do his bidding, but found the hours alone in idleness insipid. Her back bothered her sporadically, and whenever an elf

saw her wince in pain, word was sent to the king. Still she refused to heed him, preferring to aid her people rather than sitting alone in the archives with a deteriorating book. Thranduil was at a loss as to how to make her rest, and he was not alone in his concern. Haldof, too, eyed her carefully, thinking her reckless to be working so in her condition.

"Haldof," Mithryn said as she kneaded a ball of fragrant rosemary bread dough, "I am sorry that you disapprove of my efforts. Nevertheless, I am not the first pregnant woman who wished to be useful; many have done so before me. I fail to see what is different for I am not helpless. I merely bear a child. Your father has asked that I carry nothing of any weight, and I have complied with his demand. However, I will remind you that he made no objection to my working."

"We shall see," Haldof replied as he watched her brushed her hair out of her face, leaving a streak of white flour on her cheek.

Tarnil and Galamed appeared in the doorway, waiting for their brother. They could not help but be puzzled, and whispered quietly to each other. Elf maidens and matrons walked busily around them, focussed on their preparations for tonight's feast.

"Haldof, pray go!" Mithryn said, in frustration. "You have no business in the kitchens. Unless you mean to aid me with my baking, which I most sincerely hope you do not, I suggest you go make yourself useful elsewhere."

Narrowing his eyes, Mithryn thought Haldof appeared somewhat like a hawk. "As you wish, but this discussion is far from over."

Pounding her tiny hands into the bread dough, Mithryn turned her back on Haldof, refusing to look at him anymore. The three brothers stepped outside; Tarnil and Galamed both stared perplexedly at Haldof.

"Well?" Tarnil said at last when Haldof had said nothing.

"Well...what?" Haldof said as he leapt over the stream and strode down the elf path which led to the boarders beyond.

Tarnil and Galamed, however, were too enticed. They followed his quick strides with suspicious faces. "What has transpired between you and Mithryn?" Tarnil said, cautiously.

"I know not what you mean," Haldof replied, elusively.

"Oh, I believe you do," Galamed said, quickly. "You no longer carry your frowns and scowls in her presence, and further, you are always near her."

"Tell me you are not trying to woo your own brother's wife, Haldof!" Tarnil said, a joker's gleam in his eye. "Legolas would never forgive you."

Haldof, however, took no delight in his brothers' witticism. "Your humour is far from amusing," he replied, his scowl returning.

Tarnil and Galamed could do little but laugh uproariously at Haldof's discomfort. "Very well then," Galamed said when he had caught up with his brother, "why can you be found in her company so much?"

"Yes, Haldof, why?" Tarnil said, a mischievous smile adorning his face. "We know she is a very clever woman, but it seems strange, does it not, Galamed?"

"Strange indeed," Galamed confirmed.

"Perhaps you are lacking in female company!" Tarnil said, pretending to dawn a new thought. "I would not have supposed that could be so, but what do I know? I would have supposed your incessant glowers and grimaces would have attracted Elven-maidens from as far away as Lothlórien, but, what do I know, pray?"

"Nothing!" Galamed replied cheerfully.

"Aye, Brother, nothing," Tarnil added, "so I beg of you to enlighten us, Haldof! You have our complete attention!"

Haldof stopped walking, and Tarnil and Galamed stood beside him, waiting with expectant faces. "You wish to know why I pay the Lady Mithryn so much attention and concern?"

"Aye, we do," Galamed said.

Shaking his head, Haldof said: "Honestly, I wonder at you, my brothers! Can you be so very blind? Dense, even! Has it never occurred to you that Mithryn is, in fact, far from well?"

The smiles dripped from Tarnil and Galamed's faces, but they were as yet unsure of Haldof's sincerity. This could be a jest of his own. "How now? What is this fable you weave, Brother?" Tarnil enquired, warily.

"Tis no fable, but the truth I speak," Haldof said, seriously. "When Mithryn sustained her injury at the point of an Orc blade, it took her long to heal, yes?"

"Aye," Galamed agreed, "but she recovered."

"Nay, Brother. She did not. And more importantly, she will not."

Tarnil and Galamed exchanged disconcerted looks. There was no laughter in Haldof's eyes, no humour in his voice. "But what's this? Why have we not heard of this?" Tarnil enquired.

"That is a good question, Brother. Why would you not have heard of this?"

Tarnil experienced a great sinking feeling in his stomach. "Father..."

"Aye, Father," Haldof affirmed.

"How do you know?" Galamed asked.

"I was present when Noriath revealed Mithryn's condition to Father. Most likely, he would have wished me elsewhere at that moment."

"Does Legolas know?" Tarnil asked, suddenly wrought with fear.

"Nay, and nor does Mithryn. Father, Noriath and I are the only ones who know of her condition."

"And what exactly is her condition?" Galamed asked, concerned.

"Fatal. A tiny piece of poisoned Orc blade yet remains and could not be removed. She has but a little time left, and I know the wound troubles her greatly, though she says nothing. It is a relief to be able to speak of this to someone, though I am defying Father's order."

Galamed sat down upon a fallen log. "This is wrong. Legolas should have been told."

"She may die before Legolas has returned!" Tarnil argued.

"I agree with you both," Haldof said, "and I would have you know I said as much to our father when he commanded my silence."

"Why tell us now?" Tarnil enquired.

"It seemed the right moment. Are you going to tell Father?" Haldof asked. "Perhaps I should."

"Nay," Galamed said, rising from his seat. "We shall do so when the time is right, as you have done. Come. Let us tarry here no longer. There is work to be done."

Both Tarnil and Haldof nodded in agreement and returned along their path, more soberly this time. No longer did they converse, for much had they each been given for thought.

Mithryn walked along the echoing corridor lit with flaming torches. Her footfalls resounded with each step that she took until at last she found herself outside the king's personal study, and she knocked softly on the door.

The king bade her enter, and she did so with a hesitant heart. Always with the king she felt as though she were a child. He was always kind to her, and his motives were noble and good, but forever did she feel unnerved in his presence.

"Mithryn, my dear," he said, rising and inviting her in, "pray sit down by the warm fire. Does the cold trouble you? I sincerely hope your fire is dutifully maintained in your bedchamber."

"Aye, sire, it is. Never has it gone out since the cold weather began," she replied, taking a seat.

"I am glad to hear it. Mithryn, it has come to my attention that you have been labouring too hard."

Mithryn swallowed, bitterly. "And who, I wonder, brought this to your Majesty's ears? Haldof, I presume?"

Thranduil nodded, "He is greatly concerned for your welfare."

"He needn't be."

"He is not the only one. Others have noticed how you tire easily, and at times wince as if in pain. Is this not so?"

"Only occasionally," Mithryn replied.

The king sighed, "Mithryn I see no other alternative but to..."

"Your Majesty, please!" Mithryn interrupted. "It is true that my body aches at times, but you have no idea how much it pleases me to feel that I am contributing to our realm. To sit by idly, waited on hand and foot...well, I have never been used to it. I find that keeping myself busy helps me think of Legolas less," she lied. "The pain does not seem as great. Pray, your Majesty! Do not take away the one thing that sustains me!"

Thranduil sat back in his chair, eyeing her intently. The soft glow of the golden flames danced upon his face. He did not appear angered by her outburst. "My dear, I have been thinking about something for some time now. Perhaps you can help me."

"I, your Majesty?" asked Mithryn, bewildered.

"You. Lately I have been feeling the difficulty of the weight of correspondence needed with our Rivendell cousins. I have noticed, too, you bear a keen, objective mind. Withdrawing you from the kitchens will result in a decline in the variety of our sumptuous meals, however I am ready to forgo that if you accept the role as my personal advisor."

"I, your Majesty?!" Mithryn asked, even more bewildered.

"You, Mithryn, child. Your gifts are useful, and your knowledge of current events invaluable. I also believe that this would give you a chance to learn how to rule this land you are to inherit. Do you not agree?"

Thranduil, Mithryn noticed, had a clever way of explaining himself so that one would feel foolish to refuse him. Indeed, she could benefit greatly by accepting his offer, however much she was tempted by rejecting it to make her point. But reason in the end got the better of her.

"Very well, Sire. I accept."

Smiling, the king said: "I am pleased. Now, you will wish to change your attire for dinner tonight. I must not keep you."

"Thank you, your Majesty," and she withdrew from his chamber. Upon closing the door, she thought, "Now, indeed, I shall be watched at every second. No spies, but instead, the king himself."

**Author's Note:** _If you like what you're reading, please let me know with a short review!_


	28. Chapter XXVIII Ambivalence No Longer

**CHAPTER 28**

**AMBIVALENCE NO LONGER**

**PART I**

February had ended, as had the appearance and feel of winter in the forest. Days were slightly warmer with the coming of March, and the fresh, earthy scent of spring was at last in the air. Elves, being what they are and love, could not help but grow excited by the burgeoning promise before them. So much was

about to grow and bloom! A dark cloud, however, hovered over one in the forest whose misery began to eat at him like a festering illness.

Galamed had not taken his father's latest rebuff well. Always had he believed his father would have a change of heart and consent to his marriage to the enchanting Anardil, but with his latest refusal, Galamed's faith began to wane.

As days passed into weeks, Anardil watched him with growing distress. He spoke less to her, and seemed in constant agitation. She tried to relieve his worry with humour and playfulness, but to no avail. Her attempts only made him

withdraw further within himself. After not seeing him for several days, she at last went to him.

His room was cold, for no fire burned upon the hearth, and the windows, left open, invited the crisp bite of the night breeze inside. Galamed sat in his darkened room, alone in his despair. Anardil sat by him, distressed to see her lover so tortured.

"My love, why is there no fire here? Have you forsaken all light?"

"What use is light when one has a future so bleak?" Galamed replied softly, not daring to look at her.

"Winter may appear bleak in its darkest hours, but spring is certain to follow."

"And yet, some blooms never open. Some eggs never hatch," he said sadly.

Anardil watched him in agony, until at last, she accepted what she had been fearing. Wiping away a tear, she rose and walked away from him. "I think it time for this charade to cease. We have been deceiving ourselves long enough. The king is never going to consent to our marriage. It is time we both accept this. Admit it, Galamed. Anything less is folly. There is no hope for us."

Galamed at last dared to gaze at her, shocked. Though he had despaired, he had not expected her to do so. "What does this mean, Anardil? Of what are you saying?"

"I do not like to think it was all in vain, but now there is little else to believe. I will always treasure your love, and what we shared, but we must accept reality, Galamed. It is over for us. Our marriage will never be."

He rose, walking toward her, his face contorted with pain. "You cease to love me?"

"Of course not, Galamed. But our yearning is futile, and I think we'd be fools to pretend any longer. Your father has always been quite clear. The longer we delude ourselves, the longer it will hinder our recovery. I am sorry."

"Our recovery? What recovery?! I cannot recover from you."

He turned to grasp her, hold her close, prevent her from making such a mistake, but she moved hastily away, shrinking from his touch. "Don't, please. Pray forgive me," she whispered fleeing from his chamber leaving him alone in darkness.

"And furthermore," Thranduil said, striding around his office chamber while Mithryn wrote his words, "any news you can send of my errant son would be appreciated by myself, his family, and his people. I await your reply. Sincerely, etcetera."

Mithryn finished writing the letter, and reviewed all that she had written.

"Do you think it a mite too desperate sounding?" he enquired.

"Nay, my lord. Elrond, I am sure, is understanding of your concern for Legolas. It was evident to me through his letters that he shares our worry."

"It has just been so long. Surely Legolas could have sent word by now!"

Mithryn shared this opinion, but felt rather to defend her love. "I am certain there is a logical reason for such delay."

"No doubt, but I am loath to speak of what such reasons could prevent him," he said, settling into his chair by the burning hearth. Mithryn knew his meaning and looked, suddenly, troubled. He perceived her distress, saying, "Fear not for his life yet, Mithryn child. He is still with us. I feel confidant that I would know if harm had come to him. Nay, I am sorry for my pessimism. It has no business here, at such times as this. Legolas will send word if and when he is able. We must have faith that some news will come. Until then, we must be patient. Both of us."

"Yes, my lord," she said, smiling, now only slightly comforted. "I am sure you are right."

Without warning, the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang, startling both Mithryn and the king. Galamed stormed into the room, tears streaming down his face, and demanded, "Father, I can bear it no longer, and I demand answers! Why do you incessantly defy my right to wed Anardil?!"

Mithryn and Thranduil exchanged surprised glances. Nether of them had ever seen Galamed, usually passive and gentle, so enraged. Mithryn rose, and quietly excused herself from a situation she had rather not witness. Once the door was shut, Thranduil calmly invited his son to sit, which he declined.

"Very well," Thranduil replied. "You ask why I have not given my permission?"

"Aye. I demand to know what it is about Anardil that you so despise!"

"Why, nothing. Anardil is as fair and noble as all her kin. I think she a fine maiden."

"Is it me, then? Is she so high above me, your son?"

"Do not be foolish, Galamed. Of course she is not above you. You are my son, a prince of this realm, and therefore very well respected. However, you have not given me the respect I deserve as your father."

Galamed stared at him, blinking. "I have not given you respect?" he repeated. "How not?"

"You wished to marry Anardil. Did I find out from your own lips of your plans? Nay. I discovered this from Legolas. And when Haldof beseeched me for permission for your marriage, did I hear such requests from you? Nay, you did not give me such respect. Had you but come to me and asked yourself I would have given my permission months ago. But, nay. You chose to shy away, and not to approach me. Are you so ashamed of your love for Anardil?"

"Nay, I have never been ashamed of her, or of the way I feel for her."

"That is all well and good, but never will I give permission to any of my people who would not claim their own right to be happy. Frankly, Galamed, I wonder at your waiting so long to do so."

Galamed finally sat down, pondering over his father's words. It had simply never occurred to him that his father would automatically have given his consent to his request. He wiped away his tears. "I am feeling very foolish..."

"I am heartily glad to hear it. For months, I had not known what to think of you."

"Father," Galamed said, rising, "I wish to marry Anardil. We are in love. May I have your permission to wed her?"

Thranduil placed a loving hand on his son's strong shoulder, saying, "My son, at first I believed this match ill suited. However, in recent months, I have watched you both closely, and feel that you have an excellent understanding of each other. Aye, I grant my consent, and hope you very happy."

So filled with joy, Galamed embraced his father with much enthusiasm. "Thank you, Father! You will not regret it!" He sprinted from the room, now with great elation in search of his love.

Thranduil sat down in his chair once more, musing over Galamed's delight. "Oh Legolas, if you were here, how you would laugh."

**PART II**

Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas's plight had taken them into Rohan and Fangorn Forest. Its name legendary, and so mysterious, few dared to enter it. Yet, their need was great, so they dared. It was he whom they met in the depths of the ancient forest, that shocked them greater still. Gandalf! Gandalf was alive and unhurt! Gandalf had battled the Balrog in the bowels of Moria and departed the victor. Thus he stood before them, Gandalf, but no longer the Grey. Now he was the White, and newly ordained head of his order, becoming more powerful than ever before.

Merry and Pippin, Gandalf assured them, were safe indeed, and in trustworthy hands. Thus they were to ride to Edoras, and visit Rohan's king, Théoden.

As they rode up and down the vales of the open, grassy prairie, Legolas stared long at his old friend, Mithrandir. His long white hair flowed as he rode his magnificent steed, Shadowfax, looking onward to their destination. "Gandalf has altered," Legolas pondered to himself. "He seems not the same as when last we saw him." Legolas knew little of Wizards and their ways, so was content to credit Gandalf's transformation as a probable one for all that he had experienced.

"You study me at great length," Gandalf said, turning to Legolas, an amused smile upon his face. "Do you find me so different?"

"Aye," Legolas admitted, "both in body and in sprit, but I still see sparks of the old friend I have known these three hundred years."

Gandalf's face clouded, "Is that all? Three hundred little years? My word! It seems much longer."

"Do you remember nothing of your past shared with us?" Aragorn enquired.

"All. All do I remember, but it feels an age away. And now our time is spent as the end draws ever near. Come! We must hurry, for daylight is waning, and another day is gone from us."

The three horses, sensing the need for urgency, galloped even faster toward their home of Edoras where the horse lords dwelled.

Two days of hard, headlong riding and at last their objective was reached. Edoras was entered, and the king was seen. Foul and festering was his body, putrid with evil poison until cleansed by Gandalf; the evil of Saruman expelled finally from King Théoden's body. Théoden's recovery was swift, as was his retribution to the loathsome Wormtongue whose trust in him had been betrayed. He was hence banished, and hastily did he flee back to Saruman's stronghold, Gandalf assured.

Legolas watched the events play out with an acute eye. As all plans for action took place, Legolas discerned one person's constant presence, though not a word did she say. Fair by mortal standards, and with a hawk's eye, the Lady Éowyn sat near her king, listening intently to all the decisions and deliberations.

Never did a smile adorn her otherwise comely face sparking fire into her cold eyes. Legolas noticed, however, that her eyes more often than not froze on his long time friend, Aragorn. Curiosity held her gaze, for long did she stare at the would-be king.

At last, Théoden had reached a decision, and battle was it. Long had his lands been abused by their enemies, but from henceforth, Théoden swore it would stop if it took every last man in his kingdom to defend. All hearts surrounding him were gladdened by his decision, and preparations were began immediately for a swift departure.

The four companions ate in a warm room, hung with magnificent tapestries of noble, heroic horses of old. All the while the occupants of Edoras prepared their soldiers for battle.

"How he warmed my heart," Aragorn said. "I see my blood in these people. Perhaps it is not too late for them."

"Certainly not, Aragorn," Gandalf said, pacing. "However, his numbers are few. These are not the soldiers of Gondor, or even Rivendell."

"They will all be slaughtered," Aragorn agreed. "Perhaps if we reach Helm's Deep, they will have a chance to band together. I fear, however, they will not be able to withstand all that Saruman shall no doubt throw at it."

"These people are so ill equipped," Legolas said, gazing about the room. "Saruman's treachery must have been long, indeed."

"Aye, long and vile," Gandalf said, disgusted. "However, Saruman's time is running short."

Gandalf began to walk out of the room. Gimli, his mouth full of stew and bread called out, "Where do you go, Gandalf?" but he did not heed the dwarf. The door was shut, and the three were left alone.

"Did you see that maiden sitting by Théoden all the while?" Aragorn enquired.

"The one with the steel grey eyes, you mean?" Gimli garbled through his food. "Aye, and a colder beauty I've never before seen. Someone should spin that fair maid a rollicking joke! What, I ask you, is the reason for such gloom?"

"Perhaps watching her uncle decay into darkness, Wormtongue seizing the kingdom for his own, and her brother being exiled would be some just reasons," Aragorn said, tartly.

Gimli and Legolas were speechless for a moment before Gimli replied, "Well, when you put it like that, Aragorn..."

Legolas, however, was curious. Aragorn had been swift to exonerate this unknown beauty. After a few moments, Aragorn rose quickly and headed for the door.

"Now where are you going?" Gimli asked, but Aragorn, too, would not heed him and promptly left. Gimli and Legolas exchanged glances. "Now I suppose you'll be next!" the dwarf said, sharply.

"Not I, Gimli," Legolas assured, as he buttered another slice.

"Uh, this stew!" Gimli said, burping shamelessly. "Not that it isn't a satisfying meal to a hungry traveller, but it does make one miss good home cooking! You would not understand that, being an elf, but one day, if you have very good luck, perhaps you'll be able to taste the fine cooking of the Dwarves!"

"Only if I am very lucky, surely, Gimli," Legolas said, amused.

"Aye, for there aren't many of other creeds invited to Dwarves' tables; and never Elves. You would be lucky, indeed, if once in your long lifetime you chanced to savour our hearty dishes!"

"I can hardly wait," Legolas said, dryly.

"Aye, nor can I," Gimli said with much woe in his voice as he shoved another overflowing spoonful down his gullet.

Legolas thought a moment before getting up and striding toward the door.

"Hey!" Gimli called out to him. "You said you would not do that!"

Legolas, like all before him did not reply, but quickly stepped outside the room. Aragorn was standing there, leaning on a crude wooden balcony overlooking the town. People noisily bustled about, packing horses, and preparing their young and their elderly for war.

Aragorn glanced back at Legolas, "It is nearly time."

"We are all ready," Legolas said.

"Good. I wonder...While the women and children stay here, who will protect them if Helm's Deep is destroyed? Will Edoras, this fair city, also be put to the torch?"

"There are no answers to your concerns, friend," Legolas said, wisely. "There are few who can see the future, and we have none of them here. We must therefore hope that we are saved, and that good prevails."

Suddenly, Éowyn appeared below, helping some elderly soldiers into their armour. Aragorn's eyes were caught, watching her as she aided her people. Legolas watched also, but his eyes were not Éowyn. He observed, surreptitiously, Aragorn as he followed this mortal maiden's every move. Éowyn, as if sensing someone watching her, lifted her eyes toward the balcony locked in visual embrace for a moment. Then, turning shyly away, she strode back inside.

"She is very beautiful," Legolas said. Aragorn was wrenched from thought, not knowing whom Legolas was speaking of. "The Lady Éowyn," he continued.

"Ah, aye, she is. But tell me that your heart moved not toward her."

"Nay, for I am married. The moment my eyes clapped upon Mithryn, my heart was forever lost to her."

Aragorn smiled. "Aye, that is how I feel for Arwen. Alas, that I did not meet Éowyn first, but it is no use. My heart is taken, though bittersweet it is."

Gandalf suddenly appeared at the foot of the stair case. "Preparations are made, and the people are nearly ready. Make haste! We must arm ourselves for the battle before us. Théoden has graciously made his armoury available to us."

"Gimli, come!" Legolas said, opening the door.

"Aye," Gimli said, rising swiftly from the table, "I am ready! Oh, my axe has been yeaning for some Orc necks to hew!"

"Fear not, Gimli," Gandalf said sadly. "If what I fear is true, there will be plenty, indeed, for us all."

**Author's Note:** _Please kindly review!_


	29. Chapter XXIX The Battle for Rohan

**CHAPTER 29**

**THE BATTLE FOR ROHAN**

**PART I**

The company had departed Edoras, and with Gandalf's counsel, ridden onward to Helm's Deep, Rohan's great fortress of yesteryears. Never before had an enemy set foot inside the Hornburg, and it was every man's hope that this battle would prove no different. However, when seeing the numbers before them, a host so large that swarmed like veracious insects, the men of Helm's Deep grew fearful and prepared for their deaths.

Legolas stood at the great wall of the parapet, bow in hand, a sleeping, snoring dwarf at his feet. Dark was the night, despite a moon and stars. Tonight, with the scent of ominous death in the air, they brought him little comfort.

Aragorn approached at length, his eyes straining to see into the blackness of the night. In Elvish he whispered, "Legolas, your eyes are far keener than my own. Can you see anything in this nothingness?"

"I see movement. They cover the land like a valley of putrid wretchedness," Legolas replied in his native tongue, his hatred for the orcs growing.

"How many?" Aragorn appealed softly.

Shaking his head, Legolas replied, "Thousands. Perhaps eight, or perhaps ten. I cannot be certain without more light."

Just then, thunder rumbled far off to the east. Aragorn found this comforting and patted his friend on the back. "A storm! With luck, it will blow this way, and light up this gloom."

Gimli snorted in his sleep, rolled over, and snored ever the more loudly on his back. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances.

"Think the enemy can hear his thunderous noise?" Legolas asked, a wry grin upon his face.

"If they can," Aragorn replied, stepping away, "perhaps it will frighten them away."

Legolas laughed and turned once more to the oncoming enemy. Rohan men around him whispered, pointing out into the gaping void with fearful faces. A low rumble began to rise up from the glen which made not only boys quiver in their boots. A man stood beside Legolas, his leathery, old face watery with tears he was not ashamed to show.

"Why do you weep?" Legolas enquired gently.

"Long have we lived in these lands," replied he, "only to see it destroyed by a treacherous ally. We are all going to die here, and everything we hold dear shall burn as well."

Legolas was touched greatly by this old man's grief. Though Legolas was unwilling to admit it, there was truth in what the elderly soldier said.

"Never mind," the old man continued, shaking his head. "You would not understand."

"Of what have you said that an Elf could not understand?" Legolas inquired.

"With Elves, everything lasts forever. How fortunate for you," the old man said bitterly, "not to see your loved ones shrivel and die, or be taken by some childhood illness. I am certain that Rivendell bears many soldiers, strong and stout and ready to contend with any enemy they deem worthy. However, I see none here. All that we, the Rohirrum, have loved and held dear for centuries will at last be destroyed this wretched night. How long will our villages survive without its soldiers? Can our women and children rival this army if we cannot? You see, Elf? You simply could not fathom our circumstance."

Legolas had no time to reply, for in a flash Gimli rose, charging at the old man. "You should watch your tongue, Greybeard, and speak not of things you know nothing about!"

"Gimli," Legolas said softly, of which Gimli took no notice.

"For instance," Gimli continued, "this Elf comes not from Rivendell, but from Mirkwood, near my home, The Lonely Mountain. The soldiers that you spoke of, and yes, there are many, are busy defending their own homes from the armies of Mordor, you foolish old goat! If they are destroyed, all that they love and hold dear will be ravaged as well, won't it?" Gimli said, his fists firmly placed on his hips.

The old man knew his contender had been met. "Perhaps my remarks were too swift," he said.

Gimli saw that this was nearest to an apology as they were going to receive, so welcomed it forgivingly. "Think not of it! The Elf excuses your confusion. Little is known of their way of life, I understand, except for me as my own father was once held captive at his father's hands."

"And yet you are friends?" the old man asked, his suspicions of Legolas returning.

"Aye," Gimli continued, "for that is long passed, and he is a particularly peculiar Elf. Come, let us find some food and some ale, and I shall tell you about it. As I said, it was long ago," Gimli began as the two walked away, the old man looking somewhat confused.

It was an hour or more before Gimli and the old man returned from their quest for beer. "Well, Legolas, the dwarf said, burping, "Are those Orcs any closer? My axe is impatient."

"Closer, indeed, but closer still must they come for battle. I would think your axe need only wait an hour hence," Legolas said, smiling down ruefully at his friend.

"Good! And for that hour, I will rest even more. Wake me when they have come," Gimli said before laying down on the cold stone and falling swiftly to sleep.

The old man glanced at Legolas warily. "I am sorry for saying those things to you. I had no right."

"Think naught of it. The time has come when we each have something to lose in Middle Earth. It matters not where you live. Mordor's threat is still the same," Legolas said as he stared out into the black expanse, listening to the pounding of the soldiers feet coming ever closer.

"What is your name?" the old man asked.

"I am called Legolas. And you?"

"Hadas they call me. I would be pleased to call you friend, Legolas from Mirkwood."

"As I would you, Hadas from Rohan."

Gimli, who had slept soundly, awoke when the Uruk-hai announced their arrival at the fortress with fierce, ear-splitting cries. Legolas had seen the slow, hazy approach of the army, and at last, they stood beyond the outer wall, thousands upon thousands, when suddenly, the rain began. At first scattered droplets, and then a wall of rain poured over everything in the valley. Legolas's hair clung against his skin as he armed his bow.

"Ugh," Gimli said, axe in hand. "In this weather I am thankful for my helmet."

Legolas smiled as he searched for a target. Suddenly his eyes began to define shapes in the black mass as the figures of Orcs appeared. One he saw quite clearly and aimed cautiously at the beast's neck. A fierce roar came from the Orc captain, and Saruman's Army let loose their arrows. In response, Legolas redirected his aim, shot and hit his mark with lightening speed. The Orc Captain was dead before his body hit the muddy earth.

"One..." Legolas whispered to himself.

With his unerring aim, it was not long before Legolas's arrows were spent. Great ladders were hoisted against the Deeping Wall, which the Orcs were quick to climb. Drawing his long sword, Legolas cut through Orc after Orc in a flash of blood and groaning, screaming bodies.

"Eighteen...Nineteen..." he said to himself as he slew each beast down, leaving a trail of foul corpses wherever he went.

A giant Uruk-hai climbed the ladder and stepped over the wall, scanning about him for victims. A great knife he held in his hand, dirty and stained with blood. Men about him fought with desperation, but it was an elf that caught his eye. He watched as the slender elf swung at his combatant with effortless fluidity. Finding a source worthy of a fight, the Orc strode towards the dueling pair.

Legolas had been battling ceaselessly. His current rival, a great oaf of an Orc, swung his cumbersome blade at Legolas missing by a great distance. Suddenly, a larger and more powerful Orc stepped behind, slicing off the smaller Orc's head. Both body pieces fell to the ground in a heap. Legolas's surprised eyes rose to the full height of the menacing creature.

"You are too competent a coney for that buffoon," the Orc snarled showing his rotted teeth. "But not for me," it added, smiling savagely.

Legolas replied by thrusting his knife toward his target, clashing with the great brute's blade. The Orc's hammer-like fist flew at Legolas which missed him by mere slivers. Dropping suddenly and rolling on the stone floor away from his attacker, Legolas stood up briskly, knife ready for another assault. The Orc charged, bearing his whole weight against Legolas. Grasping his blade handle with both hands, Legolas sliced deep into the savage's belly, his sword becoming lodged in the beast's bones.

Looking up from it's wound, oozing thick with black blood, the Orc raised his head staring deep into Legolas's crystal blue eyes. "Well done," it gurgled, blood trickling out of it's mouth before promptly pounding a massive fist into Legolas's ribs.

Legolas crashed into the granite parapet, his chest screaming with pain. The Orc approached him, his filthy blade raised for the kill when suddenly Hadas attacked, brandishing his sword. To Legolas's horror, Hadas, though a strong and valiant soldier, was no match even for the dying Orc. It took two stabs to slay the old man, but he did not die completely in vain. In his last dying effort, Hadas tossed Legolas his sword who quickly grasped it, and watched his friend fall into a lifeless mound on the cold, stone floor.

Wasting no time to strike back, Legolas charged, roaring, and powerfully stabbed the beast straight into it's heart. It fell down, dead. Legolas had not the luxury of saying goodbye to the man, Hadas, as Orcs were quickly spilling over the sides of the Deeping Wall. With a great tug, Legolas pulled his sword out of the Orc's corpse, and joined his comrades again in the thick of the fray.

"Twenty-two," he said as he ran his last Orc through.

He was about to tackle one of the many ladders next, but heard some desperate cries for help. Stopping and searching for the source, he discovered a boy, appearing not yet twelve years of age, cornered with an Orc twice his size toying with him as a cat toys with a mouse. Legolas wasted no time in decapitating the beast. Picking up the boy's short sword, Legolas handed it to him, saying, "Come boy, this is no place for you. Will you not go into the citadel?"

"I was ordered to stay here and fight," the boy answered, scared and shaking.

"You cannot stay here," Legolas said firmly. "The Deeping Wall will not last. Pray, go to the citadel or perish."

Those last words proved most effective, for the boy nodded and stepped quickly down the stairs toward the stronghold. Legolas turned, welcoming further swordplay with the onslaught of Orcs.

Gimli appeared shortly, and as they fought the two compared their kills; Gimli at twenty-one, Legolas at twenty-four. Gimli grumbled to himself and fought valiantly on while Legolas went in search of more arrows.

It was a vile business, pulling arrows from the dead, but Legolas pulled only from the Orcs, leaving the bodies of men untouched. His search proved fruitful, finding nearly enough to fill his quiver. On down toward the citadel he scoured where some Orcs had brazenly attempted entrance. While withdrawing an arrow from an Orc corpse, Legolas made a gruesome discovery. A small hand stuck out from neath the foul creature's body. Rolling the beast over, Legolas's heart wept at the sight of the boy he had saved but a short while before. He had a large slice in his small belly, yet his face appeared peaceful and at rest. Placing a gentle hand on the boy's brow, he said, "Sleep well, little child. For no matter how the storms rage now, they will not frighten you."

In his anger, Legolas stepped back to the Deeping Wall, withdrawing each arrow in his quill, firing them at will, avenging the death of a young boy whose name he had not even known. He shot so quickly that his arrows were soon spent again.

Aragorn was briefly seen, and only woe did he have to tell. Gimli was not to be found, and how Legolas feared for his safe return.

Legolas resumed his search for arrows, often plucking some from his newly killed, the same arrows used twice before.

However, in a short space of time, the assault of Orcs continued to spill over the wall, creating a wave of unstoppable evil which could not be contained by the few remaining soldiers. They retreated within the citadel, baring the doors. The elf went in search of Aragorn, finding him eventually, discussing matters of strategy with King Théoden. Off Aragorn went again, this time with Legolas by his side, both wielding swords in their strong hands.

"Of what do you intend?" Legolas asked as they walked briskly along the wall.

"I shall ask them to leave," Aragorn replied.

"And do you expect them to comply with such a request?" Legolas asked, equally candid.

"Expect them, nay. But I shall do so just the same."

"And when they refuse?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn and Legolas reached their desired position and stood at the wall which had not yet been taken, and gazed out over the thousands of Orcs still waiting to enter the Deep. The sky began to lighten. Daybreak was at hand!

"If they refuse," Aragorn said, smiling, "we shall make them leave."

**PART II**

A knock suddenly sounded at the door snapping Mithryn from thought. She had been staring for some time at the newly hung tapestry on her bedroom wall. It portrayed her marriage to Legolas, and how she loved to stare at it! The knock sounded again, faster and more impatient. Mithryn permitted entrance. In strut Haldof, appearing more arrogant than usual, carrying a scrolled piece of parchment.

Mithryn groaned inwardly but showed no abhorrence to Haldof. "Haldof," she said with a sigh, "what an agreeable surprise." Haldof's last visit consisted of him following her around wherever she went, and barking at her across the dinner table for not eating enough. She was, therefore, keen to send him on his way. "Haldof, please. I know you are concerned for me, but I assure you I have done nothing to put myself or my child in any danger, and if I eat the way you would wish me to, I would grow to be as large as a troll. Know that I have had breakfast and luncheon today, each with the king, so you needed be distressed for my welfare. There! Your mind may be at rest now. Yes, well, I am sure you have plenty to do, being as busy as I know you are, so I shall not try to keep you as I know you must be wanted elsewhere."

Haldof was quick to take the hint, and a scowl grew in his eyes. "You need only have asked, Mithryn. Someone must watch over you, it seems, for you do the most feebleminded things! It is no wonder that you..." but his voice quickly died, and he was shocked at himself for nearly saying what he swore he would never say.

Mithryn's curiosity, however, had been awakened. "No wonder that I what? Honestly, Haldof, my actions are no concern of yours. I am quite capable of taking care of myself and my child, and I have no need of you!"

"My father would disagree."

"Yes, well, your father is thinking about his grandchild, isn't he? Pray, whom are you thinking of?"

Glowering, Haldof strode to the door, only to remember what he carried in his hand. He quickly turned around again, walked back to Mithryn and held the scroll out toward her. "Here, take it! This just arrived for you."

"What is it?" Mithryn asked, bewildered as she took the parchment.

"It is from Legolas," Haldof snarled before stomping out of her chamber.

Mithryn could not move at first. She held the crisp parchment in her hand and turned it over, examining it carefully. It bore Legolas's seal, that of the tree on his medallion which she had given him on the night of their wedding. His words, his thoughts were so near to her now, she knew not quite what to do. Gingerly she broke the seal and spread the scroll revealing Legolas's flowing penmanship.

_**3019, February 10**_

_**My Dearest Wife,  
**_

_**I sit here among the soaring mallorns, high above **__**the earth's floor, and am swept into another world. **_

_**If you could but look at the map of Middle Earth in **__**my father's study, you will see how close **_

_**Mirkwood **__**is to Lothlórien, for that is where I am. So close **__**to you, my love, and yet so far.** _

**You are the first thought in my heart upon waking **_**and the last before sleep overtakes me. Two **_

_**months **__**have passed and I am no closer to fulfilling my **__**duty. We have already lost one of our **_

_**companions, **__**and it pains my heart more than I can say. How I **__**need you at this time, my Dearest. **_

_**What comfort **__**your gentle touch and soft kisses would be to me **__**now, you cannot imagine. One night, **_

_**one hour, or **__**even one cherished minute would suffice. **__**And yet, you are far away, and so it is my **_

_**choosing. **__**I pray that you do not think ill of me for leaving, **__**and I, too, am sorry that this is the first **_

_**message **__**I could send. I hope this letter finds you well **__**and happy.**_

Mithryn glanced at the date. "February...but that was a month ago..."

_**How I crave word from you; to hear of your life at **__**this moment. Oft do I picture you walking through **_

_**the woods as we have done before my departure. **__**When my heart becomes too heavy in these bitter **_

_**lands, I imagine you in our home, and I feel joy **__**again. Have you kept your promise to me? Do you **_

_**still gaze at the stars and think of me?  
**_

"Every night," Mithryn answered, smiling, a tear trailing down her cheek.

_**Not a night passes when I do not search for the **__**stars. Much do I despise the cloudy skies, **_

_**robbing me of my only enjoyment while I am away **__**from you, my love. However, your gift I hold **_

_**dear, **__**and wear forever next to my heart. ****I miss you immensely, my love. Pray never lose **_

_**heart. I swore to you that I would return, and I **__**shall do all in my power to keep my word. Hope-**_

_**fully this will not be the last letter I send to **__**you of my progress. If long months pass and **_

_**still no word comes, do not be downcast. Not all **__**the evil in this world could prevent me from re-**_

_**turning to you.** _

**With all my love,  
Legolas  
**

Mithryn set down the parchment, wiping her streaming tears with her hand. "He has only been gone three months," she thought, "and already my heart is impatient and aches for him! How will it be when a year has passed? Or two? When will he return?" She searched her soul trying desperately to find answers that perhaps her own powers could give.

Straining, she attempted to bring forth a vision, concentrating on Legolas and his return, but nothing came. No cracking pain; no half-seen image. "He may never return," she wept woefully, and clutched his letter close to her heart.

Just as Mithryn had received a letter from Legolas, so had the king. He was ravenous for news from his son, but the letter brought little peace.

_**Mithrandir is gone. The abyss swallowed him as **__**well as the great evil that he fought. I know **_

_**what heartache this must cause you, but I felt **__**you would wish to know. I am sorry, Father. **_

_**To watch him fall into darkness...I have never **__**felt so helpless.**_

Thranduil read that passage from Legolas's lengthy letter repeatedly, anxious for the terrible words to make sense. "Mithrandir gone?" he thought, mind forlorn with woe. "It cannot be..."

Haldof had been polite knocking on Mithryn's door before entering. It would not be so for his father. Like an peevish child he stormed in. "Father, may I read your letter from Legolas? Mithryn was...disagreeable." His father, stunned to silence, handed over the letter and stared at his son's face. At first, Haldof appeared none the worse off for reading its contents. But upon reaching that most woeful news, like his father before him, Haldof's heart sank. "No..." he said, barely more than a whisper. "Father, it is not possible!"

"We think alike, Haldof. Indeed, how is this possible? Long has Mithrandir been our friend. This is simply too shocking. I am saddened; I am grieved. What is to become of Legolas now?"

"They are in Lothlorien. He continues to travel with Aragorn...well, that is better than naught. But, without Mithrandir, is there chance for success?"

Thranduil had no words, no answers to give. This was a hard blow to bear. Indeed, he thought forlornly to himself, how can this war be won without our greatest ally?"

"Legolas says Mithrandir fought a Balrog!" Haldof said, still examining the letter. "I had not thought those ancient creatures still existed."

"I had heard of rumblings of it, but did not think such tales could be true. Alas, poor Mithrandir! Call the people together, Haldof. An announcement must be made. Tonight, we lament for our dear friend now lost."

All had gathered together, and listened with crestfallen woe at the sorrowful announcement. Elves took solace in each other's arms, and sobs could be heard from more than one elf. Mithryn watched and listened questioningly. Who was this Mithrandir?

"You must wonder at us," said a morose voice behind her.

Mithryn turned to see Haldof. Far from his usual scowl or roguish grin, Haldof's face appeared tired and dejected; his air of knavish mockery abandoned. She could not help but pity him in his sorrow. "He seemed very well cared for," she said.

"He is...was...a great man."

"Man? Not an elf?"

"Nay, but was Elf-friend, and one known to me for three hundred summers."

"Three centuries? How long had he lived?"

"I know not, but that is why his death is so keenly felt, Mithryn. All of us knew and loved him. It is...a hard blow, and not one easily felt. Poor Legolas...how he must be suffering."

Mithryn could not help but gaze at Haldof, so touched was she with his ardent heartache. It was a side she had never before seen of him. However, his gentle misery did not last long. He must have sensed her pity, for his gaze met hers, and at once his stone wall of fastidiousness was rebuilt. "Mithryn, it is cold, late, and you are out of doors without so much as a shawl! Pray what can you be thinking of, gallivanting about at night, with child, with no protection?!"

Mithryn felt his sudden change with so much force, he may as well have stricken her with his hand. "It is not so cold, and your father summoned all to go to him. I had not time..."

"Well, it was most foolish of you to not think of your heath, Mithryn. Ho, Earnbaleth!" he said, calling a passing servant. "Be so good as to fetch Mithryn's shawl or cape from her chamber. She has neglected it."

"Haldof, had I wanted my cape, I certainly could have gone for it myself. I do not take orders from you. I have but two lords, and you are not among them."

"For that, I am forever grateful," he said darkly before striding away in a great huff. A moment later, the servant brought Mithryn her cape, and reluctantly, she admitted to herself to feeling a chill, and spread the warm velvet across her shoulders.

**Author's Note:** _Please review if you're enjoying my story!_


	30. Chapter XXX The Right Course of Action

**CHAPTER 30**

**THE RIGHT COURSE OF ACTION**

**PART I**

Legolas had indeed not expected to see old friends in Rohan. It was, in fact, what he least expected, but to see Elven folk in that strange country sent his heart soaring.

It was after the fierce battle at Helm's Deep, from which they were victorious and returning from Isengard, that the king, his soldiers, and the Grey Company were overtaken by a group of riders. Merry had rejoined the Grey Company, having been restored to his friends' keeping, and was heartily glad for it. He disliked, however, being separated from the ever cheerful Pippin who went now with Gandalf to Minas Tirith.

The riders rode fast; a large group counting thirty-one. Two elves were among them, whom Legolas knew well, and greeted with an embrace.

"Elladan and Elrohir! My old friends, let me welcome you!" Legolas said in their own tongue.

"We travel with Halbarad," Elladan said, his shimmering mail glinting in the moonlight. "Word came of aid needed, and so we have come. It felt wrong to stay."

"You appear familiar to me," Gimli said, staring up at the dark-haired elves warily. The Elven brothers exchanged looks and smiled. Being twins, they looked exactly the same.

"These are Lord Elrond's sons, Gimli," Legolas said in the common tongue. "You may perhaps remember seeing them at the council."

"Ah, yes," Gimli said, nodding his great head. "Well, you are very welcome here, even if you are a trifle late."

Each raising an eyebrow, Elladan and Elrohir allowed Gimli's remark to pass.

"How is everything in dear, old Rivendell?" Merry inquired eagerly.

"Rivendell changes little, Master Merry. However, when we left it, spring flowers were beginning to sprout from the earth," Elrohir said. "So different," he glanced around, "from this."

"Flowers and earth..." Merry sighed. "How I long to toil in the gardens as I used to. Alas that it is near in my heart, yet, remains so far away."

Suddenly Aragorn announced the call. They would be returning to Helm's Deep for rest and food.

While riding along, Elladan rode up beside Legolas to have a word. Their conversation far from disturbed the snoring Gimli. "Legolas, I would tell you that your father has been most anxious for news of you."

"How is he? Have you had word?" Legolas asked fervently.

"Not recently. I set out with Elrohir and the Rangers the day your letters arrived from Lothlórien. They were to be sent directly on to your home in Mirkwood."

"That is good tidings, enough," Legolas said, knowing his father would be comforted. No more did they speak on the open road. Spies and danger lurked in the darkness. All must have their wits about them, save the sleeping Gimli of course. Gimli, a tenacious, ferocious fighter once called upon, would gladly fight to the death for his friends.

They had halted briefly at the Hornburg, but once again Aragorn's path altered from that of his friend, King Théoden. The Rangers chose to follow their friend, as did Gimli, Legolas and Elrond's sons. Merry remained behind, though not by choice.

Onward did they travel to Edoras intending to rest but one night. There they were greeted by the city's mistress, Lady Éowyn, who immediately ordered food to be prepared and beds to be made for their honoured guests.

Later that evening, Éowyn dined with the travelers and spoke at length with Aragorn. Their heads, bent together in private whispers, caught the attention of Elladan and Elrohir who watched with vigilant eyes at Legolas's table.

"They speak of our road," Elrohir said. "Who is this maid that cares for our friend so?"

"Niece of Théoden," Gimli replied, chewing on a meaty bone.

"Indeed?" Elladan replied. "They seem very intimate. Is their friendship a lengthy one?"

Legolas understood the concern of the brothers the moment they espied Aragorn and Éowyn together. Éowyn's love for Aragorn was evident, yet Legolas had always perceived that Aragorn remained rather aloof. "It is new, but much have they in common. Worry not, my friends, for his love is for your sister. I know this to be true."

The brothers made no reply and, soon after, the company parted for rest. Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas were to share a large elegant room. Aragorn was late, having checked in on the horses as Gimli and Legolas settled down for the night.

"A bed!" Gimli exclaimed, examining it. "I hardly remember the last time one graced my back."

"T'would be the last night we spent here," Legolas said, laying down on his own bed.

"Sometimes I wish you did not have such a good memory," Gimli said, laying down on the soft mattress. "What do you think of those sons of Elrond and all their questions?"

"They have a right to be concerned. Arwen is their sister."

"A fool could see that Aragorn has no love for that cool maiden!" Gimli said while rolling over, attempting to find comfort.

"True, but I do not doubt he holds her in great esteem. Mortal men are so strange to me."

"Aye, for once we are in agreement," Gimli said, rolling over again.

Suddenly the door opened; Aragorn walked in, his face contorted with distress.

"What is it, Aragorn?" Legolas asked.

"Éowyn. She wishes to travel with us. To take our road."

"That is no place for a lady!" Gimli bellowed.

"She is a shield maiden," Aragorn argued, "and is skilled in the arts of war. However, I do not wish her to join in this fight. The end draws ever near. Never would I forgive myself were she injured."

"She does not go, then?" Legolas inquired softly.

"Nay," Aragorn replied. "The Paths of the Dead are our road, not hers. We leave at dawn."

"Good!" Gimli said. "These beds do not agree with me!"

"You did not complain the first time," Aragorn said teasingly.

"You are worse than the elf," Gimli said before rolling over once more.

**PART II**

It had been long, indeed, since Mithryn dared attempt the use of her powers. She had feared any such attempts would drain her strength, thus making her weaker. Yet with the onset of spring, her courage rallied. Choosing this day for its warm air and bright sunshine, she stepped into the vale, where she and Legolas used to linger, as her place of experimenting.

Mithryn's belly had been steadily growing as she was now in her sixth month of pregnancy. Nine months appeared an eternity, and twelve longer still, for Elves require a full year of gestation prior to birth.

"Something small," she said to herself, as she looked about her, searching for something to test herself on. Eying a dried leaf, she picked it up, and set it on a large boulder. Holding out her nervous hand, she concentrated with all her will and might. Slowly at first, as if yet unsure, the leaf began to twirl and rise up into the air. Mithryn released it when the wind suddenly caught it, making it float out to the tree tops. She laughed delightedly. "That had not hurt a bit!" she thought to herself.

"Now for something slightly larger..." she thought, surveying the ground. She espied a small stone, less than half the size of her fist and promptly picked it up. It weighed little, and was cold and smooth to the touch. Without hesitation, she placed it on the boulder, and prepared herself again. Stretching out her arm, she closed her eyes, concentrating on the stone as it rose higher and higher.

Tarnil stepped close, watching her with astonishment. "Mithryn," he whispered. His sudden presence was such a surprise, her connection failed and the stone plummeted back to the earth skipping into the nearby brook.

"Mithryn, what...I..." Tarnil stammered, "Legolas said you had powers, but..."

"Pray, Tarnil," Mithryn said, interrupting his broken speech, "it is nothing, I assure you. In truth, I have not exercised my powers in many months. Not since..." But there she broke off, thinking back to the battle in the forest, and the Orc who had stabbed her so fiercely in her back.

"Not since that night," Tarnil finished for her. "Aye, I heard the stories. Spheres of flame? Your powers are impressive, they say. But, why the stone?"

"It has been a long time, and I have been weak."

"And thought the better of charging wholly and blindly in. I think that wise. How does your practice progress?"

"I am able to lift a leaf, and just now a stone."

"And how do you feel?" he asked, skeptically.

"Very well," she answered cheerfully. "I feel as though I could fly!"

"Yes, well, thank Elbereth you cannot. Well, I had best resume my duties," he said, about to walk away.

"Tarnil," Mithryn said pleadingly, reaching out her hand to pull him back, "I have noticed as of late that Haldof and Galamed always seem to come in search of me, to see if I am well. And just now, you appear. I am merely curious as to the reason of this."

Shrugging his broad shoulders Tarnil replied, "We search not for you. It is not our concern what you do. I assure you we are far to busy to constantly worry what you are up to."

"Good," she said, though unconvinced, "because it would be totally unnecessary. Long have I been able to take care of myself, no matter what your father may think."

"Father?" Tarnil said smoothly. "What does he have to do with it?"

"Nothing I am sure," Mithryn said, smiling. No matter where in the kingdom she went, one of Legolas's brothers was sure to follow.

"Well, I must be off. Farewell until tonight's banquet, Mithryn." Tarnil then turned and moved just beyond Mithryn's sight. With sprightly mastery he climbed a tree, until he sat comfortable on a thick bough, watching her from afar.

Mithryn, now feeling quite alone and confident in her abilities, decided to take a giant leap forward with her practicing. In preparation, she filled her heart with love and warmth, and as the sun caressed her smooth face, she spread her arms wide, staring up into the heavens above. Smiling and full of hope, she slowly began to rise off the ground, turning ever so slowly as she rose meters off the earth.

Tarnil sat, awestruck, for never had Legolas or rumored whispers described Mithryn of being able to do such before. Yet his heart jumped into his throat when he saw her suddenly fall, landing violently on the ground. She crumpled to the earth, and Tarnil jumped effortlessly from his branch, and with several long strides was by her side.

"Mithryn! Oh, why did you do anything so imprudent?!" Tarnil said, though only out of concern.

"It is alright. I have merely sprained my ankle," she said, massaging the throbbing flesh, already beginning to swell.

"Come, I must take you to Narbeleth. She can at least give you something for the pain or to reduce the swelling."

Coming to no better conclusion herself, she finally relented, but flatly refused his carrying her. "I am not an invalid, Tarnil, and I refuse to be treated as one!"

"You cannot walk on that ankle; it is quite swollen already. You will only cause further damage to it!"

She was about to give further protest when he quickly scooped her up and said, "Legolas would never forgive me if your ankle did not mend, and so from fear of my brother's wrath, I shall carry you. If you wish to argue with anyone, argue with him," he said as he strode away carrying her uncomfortably in his awkward grasp.

"Believe me when I say, I would if I could," she said, grumbling.

"How is she?" Thranduil asked. A group of Elves stood apart with their horses, for the king had been about to embark on a hunt when news had come of Mithryn's fall.

"Her ankle improves, sire," Narbeleth said, "but she is much fatigued." She shook her head fretfully and whispered, "However, her wound of months past lingers on."

"It has never healed?" he whispered.

"Nay, sire. It has closed, of course, but is red as flame and hot to the touch. The poison is spreading, I fear."

"Thank you, you may go," Thranduil said.

Narbeleth bowed and strode away, but the king did not join his party instantly. He stood for a prolonged time, his face contorted in thought. "If she should die before Legolas's return," thought he, "never would he forgive me."

Tarnil suddenly approached him, running quickly. "Father, I am glad you had not yet gone. Pray, a word with you?"

"Only a word?" he asked. "I am about to go on the hunt."

"Father, it will but take a moment."

"Oh, very well, but be brisk. What is it you wish to discuss?"

"Why, Mithryn of course!" he said, exasperated. "Honestly, Father, I wonder at you! Mithryn was attempting her magic and look what has happened!"

"But of this you have already told me, Tarnil. I admit it was reckless of her, but mortals are always so, I believe."

"Haldof, Galamed and I have been talking, Father, for she seems to grow weaker every day!"

"Nonsense. Why, I have only just finished speaking with Narbeleth, and she tells me her ankle is of little concern."

"Father, I speak not of Mithryn's ankle."

"Then, of what do you speak, Tarnil?" Thranduil asked, still playing ignorant, but his eyes suddenly quite dark and dangerous.

"Why, of her wound, of course! The Orc wound. It never has healed, has it?" Tarnil inquired, eyes staring intensely into those of his father.

Thranduil stood silent a moment before replying, "Need I respond to this, for you already seem to know the answer. Is it not so?"

"I do not deny it. Haldof has told me, as well as Galamed. We had a right to know, Father."

"Nay, you only have a right if I say you have a right," his voice and anger rising. "Of this you have no business, Tarnil."

His tone was such that Tarnil dare not argue further. He felt his point had been made. "Just as you say, Father," he replied as his father mounted his horse and galloped away.

It was a nervous walk for Haldof from his chamber to his Father's study. Not long, but from the time of his summons, a queasy feeling had taken hold of his stomach. Suddenly he felt as though he were a mere child, an Elf of no more years than a tree, and he was about to be scolded.

His footsteps echoed in the empty passageways as did the hollow sound of the knock as he rapped on the ancient door. A soft entry was given and Haldof entered the dim room.

"I know why you have called for me, Father," Haldof said, his voice trembling slightly, which unnerved him.

"Indeed," Thranduil replied, placing a pressed leaf into his book, and setting it on the table. "Why?"

"Because I told Tarnil and Galamed about Mithryn's condition," Haldof said. His courage was building now, as he further recalled the reasons for his actions.

"Oh? You did that did you?"

"Aye, against your command."

"I commanded you not to do that, did I?"

"Aye, Father, and I wish you would not continue speaking in this manner. You never forget anything, and I'll not have you speak to me as though I were a child."

"Then perhaps," Thranduil said, coldly, "you had best stop acting like a child." He rose and stalked about the room.

Haldof promptly swallowed the words in his mouth, but could not banish the lump in his throat.

"When I give my command," the king continued, "I expect it to be obeyed! You of all people should know this, Haldof. Why, I ask you, after I had expressly ordered you not to speak of this, did you defy me?!"

Haldof thought a moment before quietly replying, "Because it was wrong. It was wrong, Father, and I could not defy you completely and tell Mithryn, but Tarnil and Galamed...they are not fools. Their questions continued, and it slipped out. I am sorry," he said.

Hearing his son thus, so full of remorse, Thranduil's heart softened immediately. "Nay, I am sorry. I have been too hard. Indeed, this has been a dreadful secret for us both to bear. Perhaps it will be better with the help of Tarnil and Galamed. I am sorry I scolded you so," he said, sinking back into his chair.

Haldof stood still a moment, unsure what to say. "How is she?"

"Not well. Her ankle is sprained, nothing more, but her back is what caused the fall. No injury to the child, thank Elbereth!"

"That is relief, indeed!"

"Yes, however," Thranduil said sadly, "in the end, it may not even matter."

"I do not understand."

"Mithryn is not expected to survive the delivery, Haldof."

Haldof stood, shocked. How he wished Legolas were here, but what Legolas could do, he knew not. All he knew was that never before had he wished for his brother so much. "And the child?"

It was too much for Thranduil. No words could he utter, the pain in his heart was so profound. He merely shook his head, nay.

The king's command had been swift and direct. Mithryn was to be confined to her bed forthwith and to have a handmaiden accompany her everywhere. Mithryn's arguments, however, fell onto deaf ears for the king would hear none of her complaints. In the end, Mithryn knew she could do little but what Thranduil bid her. So, she relented, though not without irritation.

Mithryn's ankle, though rather stiff and swollen, did far from trouble her greatly as she had nowhere to walk, and all her meals were brought to her.

Often did she have visitors-Tarnil, Galamed and Anardil were amongst the list, always cheerful and full of fun. Much did they do to raise her melancholy spirits, telling tales and bringing small gifts or fresh wild flowers. Haldof visited sporadically, when he deigned, but he would do naught but sit in a corner and make awkward conversation. Mithryn grew weary of this quickly, and at such times burned to flee from her captivity and Haldof's company. She consoled herself with the thought that Haldof's visits were short and sparse.

Her windows were open, inviting in the fresh spring air, and how she longed to wander abroad as she and Legolas had done when she had just arrived not but a year before. The thought of those precious days warmed her as she had little to do in the long, passing weeks but sit and think.

"One year..." she thought to herself. "Is that all that has passed? One little year since I arrived here?"

Twenty days after receiving Legolas's letter, Mithryn heard other news she had been waiting for. Narbeleth, the most knowledgeable healer, declared her well enough to leave her bedchamber. Thranduil was not so easily convinced, for Mithryn still walked with a limp.

"Her ankle is just tight, my lord," Ardenil the healer said. "With exercise, her walk will improve. I see no lasting repercussions from this fall."

"Very well," the king said, "but on one condition, Mithryn. Your handmaiden must accompany you everywhere you venture forth."

"My lord, I am not a child," Mithryn argued sweetly. "I admit my last mistake as being rather impetuous..."

"Impetuous indeed! Reckless would be a better word," Thranduil interrupted. "However, while you are with child, I feel it only too important that someone accompany you on your outings. You seemed to have dismissed my sons attempts to do so. However, I believe this will answer much better. I'll have no more arguments! If Legolas were here, he would agree with me and you know it to be true. Now, tomorrow will be your first venture out. Pray take care and visit me in the afternoon. There are matters which need to be discussed."

"Aye, my lord," Mithryn said without further complaint.

The following morning seemed ordered for Mithryn. The sun beamed down brightly filling the morning with warm spring air. She gazed out her window and saw Haldof approach below. The merest sight of him caused her to recoil, and she quickly turned away from the window lest he should see her and come to visit.

"Milady, the king bids thee to wear a cape," her handmaiden declared humbly; Celebwen held out the long panel of green cambric.

Mithryn knew better than to argue, so allowed the elf-maiden to drape the cape across her shoulders and tie it securely lest it should fall off. It appeared light and thin but was warm to the touch, and already, as it wrapped over her dainty shoulders, it locked the warmth in. "This is very fine," Mithryn said, admiring the delicate gold threads woven into the trim lining the edge.

"The king commissioned it himself. He is very fond of you, Milady."

"He is very generous," Mithryn said, rising, and holding onto Celebwen for support.

A knock sounded at the door. Mithryn sat herself back down into her chair. A visitor would only postpone her walk, and standing for too long tired her. Celebwen opened the door and in strode Haldof carrying a long stick.

"Haldof," Mithryn said, attempting a smile, "I am going for a walk today. You need not be concerned. Celebwen will be with me wherever I go."

"I know," he said smugly. "It was I who suggested the idea to Father."

Mithryn tried with all her might not to allow her distaste to show, but sadly failed.

"I'll not wait for your assurances of your health," he continued, "as no doubt you wish to hurry along on your walk. I merely came to present you with this." He held out the stick, handing it to Mithryn.

It was long and sleek, highly polished allowing the dark wood grain to show. The peak curled into pointed flames and Mithryn's name in Elvish encircled it.

As Mithryn's slender fingers first touched the staff, she felt a tingling sensation move up her arm and resound through her entire body. "This staff is most pecular! I can feel its force! Another gift from the king?" Mithryn enquired, examining the staff. "Pray thank him for me will you? Nay, you needn't bother. I forgot. He wishes me to confer with him today. Well, thank you kindly for delivering it to me, Haldof."

Haldof stood a moment before turning on his heel and stepping out of her chamber without a further word.

Celebwen and Mithryn exchanged bewildered looks. "Well, I thought I was quite friendly considering his last visit."

"Haldof is a complex book to read," Celebwen said, knowingly.

"Aye," Mithryn agreed, rising now with the aid of her new stave. It stood a full foot above her head, yet made moving about much easier. She no longer required Celebwen for support, and was thus much happier.

"Come, Celebwen! The daylight beckons. Long have I been indoors and it is not for me."

A soft tap on the door interrupted the king's contemplation. "Enter," he bade, stuffing the parchment away from prying eyes.

Mithryn entered slowly with the aid of her stick, and sat down at the great table.

"Ah, my dear," the king said, welcoming her, "I trust your walk went well? No adventures, I hope."

"Nay, my lord," she replied, smiling. "It was exhilarating to move about after being immobile for so many weeks."

"It was but three. Three is not very long, from my point of view. Or even yours, I would think, you having lived so long in the lives of men."

"Yet three weeks can seem an eternity when one is shut up in one's bedchamber. However, I have learnt my lesson and will take better care. That reminds me, my lord. Thank you so much for the generous gifts you bestowed upon me today."

"Gifts? Oh, you mean the cape. 'Twas nothing, I assure you. Mortals chill so easily; I did not want you to catch cold in the spring air and have to shut you up for another three weeks."

"I am glad for that. But, my staff," she said, placing a tender hand on its smooth grain. "I thank you for it as well. It has made my independence so much easier!"

Thranduil stared at her a moment before saying, "I deserve no thanks in that gift, my dear. One must give credit where credit is due. That gift is from Haldof."

"Haldof?" Mithryn said, surprised.

"Aye."

"He commissioned it, I assume, from the woodworking Elves?"

"Nay, for he began work on it himself the day you fell. He is very skilled with tools, as I'm sure you can see. As elves, we do not kill trees for our own uses. We merely take what they give us. Having found no fallen branch to his satisfaction, he had to resort to a different meathod of aquireing one. I am confused, my dear, did Haldof not tell you this gift was his making?"

Mithryn shook her head, guiltily remembering her conversation with him.

"Strange. Well, he asked Belegaladh for one of her branches."

"Asked her?"

The King smiled at her innocence. "We elves have many secrets. Like Haldof's, for example. Although, some would find it difficult to believe such, Haldof is very modest."

"Indeed?" Mithryn said, inwardly ridiculing her total lack of sight. This explained so much! She merely surmised his abrupt exit as his norm. How was she to mend this?

Another week passed, and Mithryn saw very little of Haldof. Never did he come to visit, and she was thankful for that. She had no idea what their next conversation would entail and so avoided him whenever possible. Twice was she seated beside him at dinner, but the king maintained constant discourse throughout the meals and she was thus saved.

Thranduil's kingdom had been thrown into cheerful activity upon the declaration of a happy event. The date had been established for Galamed's wedding, and preparations were being set forth hastily. The question arose of Legolas not being in attendance at his own brother's wedding, but Galamed insisted that his brother would understand.

When the wedding day arrived, Mithryn sat idly by and gazed at the busy elves hurriedly making final arrangements. She vividly recollected what her own wedding day had been like, and how it felt like yesterday. How the elf-maidens had fawned over her, and how anxious she had been for the stubborn summer sun to set.

Celebwen now dressed Mithryn with care as faraway thoughts flitted about Mithryn's mind. She tenderly touched the ring Legolas had given her on that special day.

"You seem melancholy tonight, Milady," Celebwen said gently.

"I suppose I am a little."

"It is a fine night for a wedding. Much like your own wedding night, I recall. Not a cloud in the sky. The stars will bless the couple with their radiance."

"What a beautiful thought," Mithryn said as Celebwen twisted her hair up, pinning it in place.

When the sun had finally set, all Elves not on duty congregated by the bower, waiting patiently for the bride and groom to appear. Mithryn was seated near the front and, without warning, Haldof walked past and promptly sat down beside her. Mithryn stiffened in her seat, but knew not what to say.

Nearly ten minutes passed and still neither one spoke. Not being able to stand the awkward silence anymore, Mithryn remarked, "Haldof, thank you for the beautiful walking stick. I am sorry I had not thanked you sooner, or even when you gave it to me, but thank you. It was a wonderful thought and much needed."

"Think naught of it," Haldof said quickly, and refusing to meet her eye.

"Nay, it was a generous gift for you to make with your own hands."

"Not at all," he said, still not looking at her.

"Haldof, I never understand you! Can I not even thank you for giving me a gift?"

"Mithryn..." he said, rising for his father had begun the ceremony.

"Yes?" she asked, awaiting his reply.

Haldof stared at her a moment before saying, "The ceremony has begun."

Exasperated, Mithryn turned toward the aisle to see Anardil stroll blissfully down in a filmy white gown. Though the ceremony proceeded in Elvish, Mithryn understood most of that which was said. Vows were taken, offerings were exchanged, and they were at last pronounced married!

"Legolas should have been here," Haldof whispered to himself.

"I'm sure he would have wished for nothing more," Mithryn said gently, her mood now more softened. "However, Galamed and Anardil are much in love. It is understandable that they be impatient. Legolas would understand, you know."

Suddenly, horns sounded throughout the realm. At first Mithryn thought they were declaring the Royal marriage, but the announcement started a panic. Elves scattered quickly. Haldof, suddenly, grabbed Mithryn and picked her up. She held onto her stick fast and was tempted to beat him with it.

"Haldof, put me down this instant! What goes on?!" she demanded.

Charging toward the palace, Haldof said, "It has happened, just as you said it would."

"What has happened? Haldof, tell me!" she urged.

"Orcs have invaded."

**Author's Note:** _If you like what you're reading, please let me know with a short review!_


	31. Chapter XXXI Invasion

**CHAPTER 31**

**INVASION**

The Orcs had invaded. The words resounded in Mithryn's head. Her vision had become a reality.

"Do not get any ideas, Mithryn," Haldof said, setting her down in the grand hall as Elven women and children came streaming in. "Legolas asked me to keep you safe, and I intend to do just that even if it means locking you in the dungeon. You must stay here, do you understand?"

"Haldof, I can help! My powers..."

But Haldof had no interest in her arguments. "Mithryn, I refuse to listen! You must promise me you will stay here. Do you swear to do so?"

Reluctantly, Mithryn nodded, and Haldof sprinted out of the palace. Mithryn stood a moment, gazing around at the assortment of Elven maidens clothed in fine robes, but all with fearful and anxious faces.

The child in her body moved, and with it her determination to keep all that she loved in this world safe. Try as she might, it pained her to sit idly by while friends, dear friends, fought to the death, and while her home, Legolas's home, was ravaged and destroyed. Walking stick in hand, Mithryn quickly exited the palace, and in the chaos of the moment, went unnoticed.

She had not walked far when she realized the impossibility of her situation. Though the stick helped, Mithryn's ankle was still stiff, and thus, she lacked the free and fluid movement required for battle. "Anfalas," Mithryn whispered, remembering her beloved horse. "Riding would make combat much easier," thought she, and so turned and made her way to the stables.

Muffled cries resounded in the distance and she made her way as briskly as she could down the forested hills to the stables by the stream. A crescent moon and lucent stars provided only dim light, but it was enough to help her find her way in the eery shadow of night. A light shone ahead and, as Mithryn approached, her heart quaked at the site her eyes beheld.

The stables were ablaze, their roofs curling as fiery bits flew up into the sky setting the trees above them on fire. Inside, the ponies were screaming, ramming and kicking against their stable doors, desperate to escape the fire's merciless claws. A group of a dozen Orcs stood about, laughing, with torches in their hands.

A rage came over Mithryn of such a nature as she had never felt before. It welled up inside her, and before she knew what had happened, her arms shot out, walking stick pointed towards the intruders. A great force was released, more powerful than she had ever before experienced. The Orcs were sent flying overhead, crashing into the flaming rooftops, and began to scream and flail about.

In shock, she gazed at her walking stick, but lost no time in raising it again commanding the stable doors to fly open. Horses and ponies quickly bolted out, kicking in panic as they ran for freedom. The roof caved in, and sadly a few ponies did not make it out alive. Mithryn gazed around frantically calling Anfalas' name, and quickly the great steed trod over to her.

"Thank goodness," Mithryn said, stroking the horse's shoulder and neck as she whinnied and nudged Mithryn, telling her of the horror of smoke and flame. "Come Anfalas," Mithryn commanded, climbing onto her back with difficulty. "Are you ready for a fight? Well, let's give them one!"

Anfalas leapt forward into the night, running swiftly toward the palace. No elves were in sight but she felt their eyes on her from hidden vantage points. The great stone doors were now firmly closed, held fast by the ancient magic of the elves. Mithryn, however, had no intention of returning inside. Never before had she felt so powerful, and she longed to use this new force on her enemies.

Urging Anfalas to continue onward, they hastened deeper into the forest. It was not long before Mithryn spotted her next victim. The dirty beast charged toward her, cutlass in hand, and Mithryn aimed her staff at it releasing her awesome fiery bolt. The ignited Orc shrieked as he flew high into the sky, arms thrashing around as he tried to grab hold of tree branches. Mithryn's power, however, was too great. The Orc rose ever higher until Mithryn let it fall. It had travelled some distance and fell beside a group of Elven archers. Flaming Orcs falling from the sky? They glanced up, but having seen no more, continued their battle.

Mithryn rode on, unleashing a rain of fireballs unto her enemies as she went. Haldof was near, witnessing the conflagrant downpour. Rushing to her side he yelled, "Mithryn, what are you doing here?! You gave me your word!"

"They set the stables on fire, Haldof," she replied, releasing more fireballs. "Their aim was to burn them all alive! I was able to get most of the ponies out, but not all. We must stop them!" she said, discharging another blast of power sending a group of Orcs high into the air.

"Mithryn!" Haldof said, grabbing her skirt in an attempt to gain her attention. "Mithryn!"

She looked down and, perhaps for the first time, recognized Legolas in his face. They shared the same eyes, she thought, but were now so full of fear. Her rage was summarily quenched, and she listened more intently.

"Mithryn, you are magnificent, indeed. If not for your child, I would willingly let you fight alongside me. You bear great power, and how I envy it. Your feelings do you credit, but your safety lies elsewhere which you are neglecting. Legolas is fighting. His fight is monumental. When he comes home, how are we to tell him that we lost his wife and child in battle?" How those words broke Haldof's heart as he said them, for he knew them to be too true. How, indeed, would he tell Legolas upon his return that Mithryn had been too ill? How would he tell his beloved brother that her ailing body had given out and both lives were now gone?

Mithryn felt his heartache, and for the first time, acknowledged the wisdom of his words. "You are right, Haldof. I shall return."

Anfalas reared around. "I shall ride with you," he said, leaping onto Anfalas, and taking his seat behind her.

The palace was quickly reached and the doors remained shut firm. Haldof jumped off the horse's back and placed a hand on the cold stone wall. A low rumbling arose and magically the doors opened, leaving just enough room for them to ride through. They entered the palace compound meeting armed guards, and hurried through to the Grand Hall, now busy with Elves and servants. Haldof assisted Mithryn with her awkward dismount, and Thranduil walked in, eyes sparkling with restraint. "Haldof," the king said, "I wish to speak with you."

Haldof followed the king out and through the long, winding corridors to his study. When the door had been shut, Thranduil said, "Haldof, why was Mithryn out of these walls? We had discussed this, and I thought we had agreed. Mithryn is in no condition to be fighting."

"Mithryn is heedless, and is quick to act. Were she healthy and not with child, I think she would be a valuable asset to our forces. However, as it is, never would I wish her to act in so rash a manner. I escorted her hither, as promised to you, and she gave me her word she would stay. I thought she had meant it."

"Heedless is correct. She cannot be trusted to do what is best for her."

"Do not be too hard on her, Father. If you could have but seen how well she fought. Legolas would have been proud."

"Proud? To see his pregnant, ailing wife careering around on a horse in battle? No, let us have no more of this! Fear not, I hold no blame over you. Mithryn must be made to understand what outcome her choices create."

"Shall I speak to her?" Haldof asked softly.

"Nay, you may mistake and say too much."

"Then," Haldof said, hesitantly, "then, she still is not to know her condition?"

"Nay, I see no good that would do. Nay, I shall speak to her, and you shall say nothing. Now, give me an update of the battle."

"The Orcs have hit hard but our guards held fast and there have been no break-throughs. I have ordered more soldiers to the weaker posts and we have three hundred more archers standing by."

"Any casualties?"

"Nine at my last count, I fear. Our enemy, however, has already paid a high price. I figure at least a hundred Orcs are dead and many more seriously wounded. The enemy was retreating when I left, but I do not think they will be gone long. No doubt they are regrouping their troops for another onslaught; valuable time for us to prepare. We shall be ready."

Thranduil patted his son on the shoulder. "May Eärendil watch over you, my son. Take care."

"May we meet again in the glow of the morning, Father," Haldof said before withdrawing and leaving his father alone.

Mithryn had returned, and none had scolded her for her actions, not even the king. She humbly fell into busy work, nursing wounded soldiers. The healers found her to be very gifted, but were firm when her weariness began to show. A full day passed, and little news came. She gathered what she could from the injured, but she had had no sight of Haldof, Tarnil, or Galamed.

She was bathing a long, bloody, sword-cut on the leg of a soldier when a servant approached her, asking her to follow for the king wished to speak to her. Another healer quickly took over the task and, picking up her staff, she followed the servant to the king's study.

"Ah, Mithryn!" the king said upon her entrance. "I hope you are well, my dear. You have been busy, I have noticed. And from the look of you, have not had much sleep, either."

"Nay, my lord," she said, sitting. "The wounded are so many."

"Aye, they have grown in number considerably. However, our barriers are holding, thanks in part to your efforts, I understand." Blushing, Mithryn made no reply, and the king quickly continued. "I hear you went for a little ride yesterday. Did you enjoy it?"

"Aye, my lord," Mithryn said, bashfully, "though I know it was wrong of me. I am sorry, and I shall never do so again."

Not totally believing this penitent admission, he had not the heart to scold her. "I know it is difficult for you, Mithryn. The body cannot always do what the heart bids it to do. You know your own strength. It must be the judge, not I. But you have another to think about, now."

"I know, and I understand, my lord. I make rash decisions when angry; it is a fault I mean to mend..."

"Think no more of it, but be wary. Your strength must govern your actions. Now, come, walk with me awhile." The two rose to leave, Mithryn walking with her staff.

"You have grown quite accustomed to your stave, I see," Thranduil said as they made their way to the great hall.

"Aye, my lord, it has given me renewed might of which I cannot understand."

"Then Haldof was surely wise in the making of it for you."

They had only stepped into the Great Hall when more injured soldiers were being carried in. Healers quickly bustled about, tending to their wounds. Mithryn and Thranduil watched as writhing, moaning, limping elves were brought in. She knew she could not leave them now.

"My lord," Mithryn said, quietly, "how long shall this battle last?"

"Alas, I do not know, my dear."

Three days and nights the elves battled the onslaught of Orcs, each time advancing, and then retreating. There had been damaging losses on both sides, but more so upon the Goblin army. On the third and final day, however, they rose up, spiteful from constant defeat, and came the last and final time with torches. Swabbing their arrows with crude oil, they lit them, aiming into the trees, setting the forest ablaze with fire. Flames spread quickly, and for a moment, the tides had turned. Elves began to retreat, attempting to escape the fire, and the Orcs quickly pursued.

When all was believed lost, the sky opened up, releasing it's downpour onto the burning woodland. Dousing the flames with cool rain, a mighty wind also began to blow from the north, southward to the mountains. What the Orcs had begun had now turned against them, burning where they had come from. Swiftly the Orcs began to fall back to the mountains, never to return.

**Author's Note:**_ Please let me know what you think of it!_


	32. Chapter XXXII Galadriel's Warning

**CHAPTER 32**

**GALADRIEL'S WARNING**

**PART ONE**

The battle had lasted three interminable days. When it was certain that the enemy had indeed fled, the palace doors were opened allowing a first glance at the devastation for those who had been, all the while, inside.

The aftermath was disastrous. In the warm morning sun, all was finally revealed. Smoke still rose from burnt bodies and smouldering trees, and an immense feeling of woe clung to the air, making it thick and stale. Mithryn walked with the crowd of silent elves, taking in the horror that had been inflicted on their beloved home. Dead orcs were strewn everywhere and the foul stench attracted incessant, buzzing flies. The king, too, walked with the large assembly, surveying the damage.

"We have lost many heros and many of our cherished, ancient trees this past night," Thranduil said to his sons as they walked beside him.

"Aye,"replied Tarnil sadly. "They succeeded in destroying much that we hold dear. But not all. Not our hope. More trees will grow."

"Aye," Haldof agreed, "but what a terrible death for these trees which we have loved and nurtured. They have been kin to all of us."

"Their deaths were not of our making," Thranduil replied, touching the crisp, charred bark of a fallen oak. "We shall put their names and stories into songs so that they shall live on and be remembered."

The deaths of their own brave kindred was a greater loss still; twenty-one had they lost in the great battle for Mirkwood. Many everlasting lives were snuffed out, never to be seen ever again. Funeral preparations were slowly and sadly set in motion as cleanup began.

While only twenty-one elves had perished, for the orcs, the death toll was in the many hundreds. Mounds of their disgusting bodies littered the wood, fouling the earth and air. Quickly the elves began the repulsive task of destroying their remains. On great carts, the loathsome carcasses were hauled away to a secluded spot and burned. Fires flared for days; there were so many dead, and when, at last, the fires went out, neither grass nor tree grew on those spots ever again.

A week or more had passed and still Mithryn had been unable to extricate herself from the wards to see the full damage of the battle. The wounded were convalescing and required constant care. The king, however, had finally commanded her to cease her ministrations and go and rest awhile. Mithryn would not have said it, but she was grateful for a respite from the pain and suffering of others and for the chance to restore her own depleted energies.

It was at this time that Mithryn had none to watch her. Celebwen, her companion, and the other healers were busy tending the injured while everyone else assisted in the restoration and cleanup. Mithryn was appreciative of the break from constant supervision as she knew it would not last long. She strolled in the wood, tall staff in hand, analyzing the damage to their fair wood. Her specific destination was to that of Legolas's beloved tree, Belegaladh.

As she drew nearer, however, her eyes would not believe what they saw. Once ancient and magnificent, the eldest tree in the forest was left naught but a fallen trunk, black and burnt. An elf sat next to it, and at first it appeared to be Legolas! She gasped, and he turned, revealing only Haldof.

"Mithryn, what do you do out by yourself? You are not permitted."

"Celebwen is busy with the wounded, Haldof. I would not have the infirm neglected simply because I am suffering for a keeper." Haldof made no answer, and for the first time Mithryn noticed that Haldof appeared to be weeping. Discarding her animosity, she asked gently, "Are you alright?"

Haldof turned away, wiping his eye, "I am well enough."

Mithryn, facing the fallen tree, said softly, "It is a great loss, indeed, Haldof. Legolas told me of how you played in its branches as boys so many years ago. If I went in search of him, more often than not, I could find him here, sitting high in its boughs, deep in contemplation."

Haldof smiled. "Our teasing and carefree pranks did not stop as boys. This was our favourite refuge whenever Mother or Father thought we had overstepped the bounds of decorum. How sad Legolas will be when he discovers this loss, and the loss of our kinsmen. Perhaps he will never return to see it."

"Do not say that!" Mithryn snapped, heart suddenly racing. "Legolas will return. You know not what you say."

Haldof placed his hands on the scorched flesh of the tree, anger swelling. "How I hate Sauron! There is no end to his malice! He will not stop until all is destroyed. Do you not see?" he asked as his anger rose, turning toward her. "His army is that of thousands! Legolas's army is that of nine companions, one being dead already! What hope has he of returning? Trust it, Sauron will throw all of his power into seizing the Ring! This is but the beginning, Mithryn!"

Mithryn's heart pounded, but before she could think of a reply, Haldof's eyes welled with tears, and he darted deep into the wood. Tired, Mithryn sat down, absently caressing her unborn child. "Legolas's absence does not get easier with the passing of time," she thought. "Each day is harder than the one before. It is not until I think I cannot miss him any more, that I discover it is not so. Every day my grief for Legolas becomes more deep. I wonder if he shall change as battle changes a man?"

**PART TWO**

Upon departing Edoras, Aragorn led his friends down the Paths of the Dead. The Rangers, tall and proud, rode with him, as did Gimli, Legolas, and Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir. The journey was fraught with dread and peril, yet, still they rode onwards until Aragorn called forth the dead of that land, demanding them to compensate for their past betrayal. Bound by their promise, they came, ghostly figures with tattered banners held high in the dimly awakening sky.

Even the stoutest hearts quaked at the sight of the grim, spectral entourage, but not Legolas. Gimli walked by his side, occasionally glancing back at the dead men following. Legolas saw his friend's distress. "It is not you they mean to harm," he said gently, placing a tender hand on his comrade's shoulder causing him to jump.

"They are dead!" Gimli whispered, so that those of whom he spoke should not hear. "You know not what their object be!" Gimli let out a pitiful whimper. "Oft have I worried that I may not go on, my heart is frighted so."

"Gimli, my friend," Legolas said firmly, "never would I depart these lands without you."

At last, Gimli felt some comfort, and the pair steadily walked behind the company as they made their way across the fields of Dor-en-Ernil.

They had been walking steadily south east, following the haunted trail, stopping only when necessary. Four days had passed since departing Edoras, and the first sign of the enemy had appeared upon that day. Tracks! Aragorn, leading the party, was quick to spot them and pick up their trail. "A massive band of Orcs has been this way," Aragorn said to Halbarad, as they closely surveyed the ground.

"What evil deeds are they up to here in Gondor?" Halbarad inquired.

Gimli, so short in stature, could neither see nor hear what the commotion was all about. "What goes on?" he asked Legolas fearfully, expecting the dead following to overtake them at any moment.

"Orc tracks," Legolas replied, attempting to listen to Aragorn's words. "Our enemy has been this way."

"Orc tracks, did you say?" Gimli asked, a smile growing on his face. "Well, that is another matter!" Seeking confirmation, he charged up to Aragorn, planting both sturdy feet in front of him. "Is it true, Aragorn? Are there Orc near?"

Aragorn, closely observing evidence in the dust, rose up. "It is true, Gimli. A band passed this way neigh twelve hours ago."

"If they have not rested, then surely they could not be far off?" Gimli asked eagerly.

Aragorn smiled, and turned towered his elven friends. "What do your elven eyes see, Legolas?"

Legolas shielded his eyes with a slender hand, but shook his head. Far do I see, but the hill obstructs my view. I must climb it to tell."

Legolas wasted no time sprinting ahead, and Elladan and Elrohir quickly joined him. Upon reaching the crest, they gazed at the far horizon. Rolling hills speckled with trees filled their view and a long, wide river flowed along the horizon.

"The Anduin!" Elrohir whispered. We are so close to the sea! How I long to see it!"

Legolas recollected Galadriel's words of warning. His conception quickly strayed to Mithryn, wondering what she must be doing on such a fine day as this, until Elladan brought his thoughts back to Gondor.

"There they are," Elladan said, pointing eastward. They are not far. Not more than twenty leagues off, I should say."

"Come," Legolas said, turning back, "we must tell Aragorn."

The pursuit was on, and Gimli was happier than any. "My axe," said he, "is weary of hanging idly by my belt. It craves Orc necks to hew!"

"What would happen," Legolas said, teasingly, "if we slew every Orc in Middle Earth and then there were no more?"

Gimli stared up at Legolas, his eyes wide. "Do not jest of such things, elf!"

The company then maintained silence as they rode on. The dead still followed behind and remained ever close even as Legolas rode hard on his steed, Arod. Gimli glanced back less and less, his mind now firmly set on the slaying of Orcs. Much was he now looking forward to!

The west wind, however, was against them and their backs, for it blew their scent far and the band of Orcs soon knew of their pursuers. A brawl ensued amongst them for some wished to turn and fight while others thought it wiser to flee than to stay and be slaughtered. In the end, Ghashná, the Orc captain, beat to death one who opposed his authority. "Pick up the pace, you stinking maggots or you shall feel the back of my club! We shall wait for them beside the river. They will not expect what we have waiting for them there!"

His followers roared their response, and with great might and speed, the band resumed their course while Aragorn and his army tracked closely behind.  
"It is a dark night," Aragorn whispered, "Clouds conceal a full moon."

"It is dark, but their fires aid me much," Legolas said, surveying the Orc camp. "Two hundred or so wait by the water. They have great ships with them. Their purpose is evil, on that we can rely, but what is their intent?"

"They come to invade Osgiliath," Aragorn whispered. "Tell me, my friend," he said, turning toward Gimli, "is your axe up for a fight?"

Gimli smiled. "I was hoping you would say something like that!"

"Come then!" Aragorn said, rising. "We must not keep our enemy waiting!"

The host charged, riding at full gallop. Legolas dismounted with graceful ease then carefully aided Gimli off Arod. Together they fought side by side, Legolas with his bow and Gimli merrily swinging his axe. The Orcs, however, were not caught unawares. Two hundred stood by the river as Legolas saw, but three hundred more lingered down the river, waiting for the signal to attack.

"We wait!" snarled Ghashná to his three hundred beasts, anxious to spill the blood of men.

Suddenly, one Orc saw something move in the darkness. "Something's out there. Some elvish beast or such," he whispered to his commander.

Ghashná stepped forward, and pulled out his filthy blade. "Show yourself, coward! You fear to fight me?"

Without warning, a ghostly soldier appeared, slicing his blade across the great Orc's belly, spilling its contents. Ghashná fell to the ground in a heap. The Orc beasts screeched in wild terror upon seeing the Dead soldiers ride forward on their phantom horses. Far from standing and fighting, the Orc hoard fled in cowardly fashion, but soon discovered there was nowhere to run, the Dead army having surrounded them. Seeing what a macabre enemy assailed them, the Orcs stormed into the water, mad with fear. They knew not, however, the cold and deep secrets of the Anduin, and quickly lost their footing and slid frantically to its hungry depths.

When all was over and every last Orc slain, the soldiers of Middle Earth, those dead and alive, gathered near the waters edge.

"You have fulfilled your oath," Aragorn said to the translucent army, "and may now have peace."

Without a word, the spectral army slowly vanished until they were no more. The sun began to rise, warming the earth and air.

"One army gone," Gimli grumbled, "and we now need another." Staring up at Aragorn, he said boldly, "You should have kept them a little longer."

Aragorn climbed his powerful steed, rode to the highest hill and looked down on the humble cottages in the village below. "The hosts of Sauron are defeated, never to return to this land, our home!" he cried to them. "Come and fight our enemy and, once and for all time, defeat him! I call you forth, men of Pelargir, to fight with me!"

Doors, which had all night been barred tight from ravaging orcs, were slowly opening. People stood in their doorways and, looking up to the topmost hill, saw a vision of a kingly figure crowned with the golden glow of morning sunlight. Seizing their weapons, they kissed their loved ones farewell and made their way, six hundred in all, to the hill to see their king, though they knew not it was he.

Aragorn rode back to his friends and his new living army followed, cheering loudly for this powerful deliverer and leader.

"Is that a fair enough army for you?" Aragorn asked Gimli when he reached them.

"They will do," Gimli replied, smiling. "What now?"

"We sail to where these ships were destined. . .Osgiliath," Aragorn said.

Gimli blanched. "Sail? I dislike boats as much as I dislike horses. Must we sail?"

"The wind, as well as oars, will carry us there swiftly. If we rode, our horses would grow weary much sooner. Time is of the essence, my friend. We sail!" Aragorn said, stepping onto one of the dromunds, the great sailing ships with billowing black sails.

Gimli nodded, for he felt it fruitless to argue further. All boarded the vessels which were five in all. Men from Pelargir filled the bowels of the ships, manning the oars, and soon they were off!

Legolas stood next to Gimli, who was now looking a trifle green and sickly. "Fear not, Gimli. We shall be there soon enough."

"Nay," cried Gimli, "not soon enough!"

Legolas laughed when, suddenly, he heard a peculiar sound from overhead. It was a strange, languid cry, and one Legolas was unfamiliar with. His head turned upward to see a white gull soar, and turning, he followed it.

The sun rose and glistened with magnificence on the rolling waves of the Anduin leading out to the sea. Powerful eyes he had, but could not gaze beyond the winding bends of the river. Legolas walked to the aft of the ship, captivated. Elladan and Elrohir joined him, equally entranced.

"The sea...Are we really so near?" Elrohir whispered.

"Aye," whispered Legolas. "So near, yet so far." More gulls joined the first, calling out their sad, lonesome song of the sea. A strong north east wind blew across their faces, tossing their hair, and caught up the black sails, bringing with it the fresh scent of salty sea air.

"The sea! How I long to sail across it!" Elladan said, smiling.

"Well, I certainly do not!" Gimli said, leaning heavily on the rail as he joined them. "I'll be happy if I never set foot on another boat as long as I live!"

Elladan smiled, listening to Gimli's grumbles. "That is because your fate does not dwell beyond the sea, but in caves. Our fate, our destiny is quite different."

"What, what? What is this you speak of?" Gimli asked, confused.

"In days long past," Elladan began, "our people traveled across the sea. Once we feel the call to journey forth again to our ancestral home, to Valinor, there is no turning back. Our time here is at an end, my friend. Soon, Elves shall dwell in Middle Earth no more. I, too, have now heard the cry of the gull, and wish to sail across the sea's mighty waves."

Gimli gazed skeptically at Legolas, but Legolas did not look his way. He stared forever forward, drawn irresistibly to the breathing wonder of the waves moving out toward the sea, and felt them call to him. "Alas that the fair Galadriel's words rang true! A thirst has awoken in me unable to be quenched."

Aragorn suddenly jumped up onto the mast, standing high for all to see. "My friends!" he cried, calling out to all. "You fight alongside me as we journey onward to destroy our common enemy. And as you go with me, you go not with Aragorn the Ranger, but Aragorn the King," he said as he let loose his fine standard displaying a white tree, seven stars and a glorious crown atop it, resplendent in the sun. At once Legolas could see the intricate handiwork of Arwen, sister to Elladan and Elrohir. The twins smiled proudly at their sister's gift for it was beauteous beyond explanation. "Onward to Osgiliath!" Aragorn cried, pulling out his sword.

All followers shouted their fealty and allegiance, and the eager ships, catching the mighty wind in their black sails, sailed onward to battle.

**Author's Note:** _Please kindly review!_


	33. Chapter XXXIII The Last Stand

**CHAPTER 33**

**THE LAST STAND**

**PART I**

Osgiliath had been badly beaten, yet finally proved victorious. What was thought lost was restored, but not without cost as many were injured in the great battle and even more had perished. Drastic measures now needed to be taken and, thus, they decided to ride to Mordor, challenging Sauron head on. Neither word nor sight of Frodo had been received, save from Faramir, younger brother to Boromir. Gandalf believed Frodo still alive, however, and attempting to aid him, the army rode onward to certain death.

Mordor: its foul earth and air, bitter cold, stinking marshes and the ominous explosions from Mount Doom were their relentless companions.

"It is worse than I imagined," grumbled Gimli on the back of Legolas's horse.

"You are but on its doorstep," Legolas said, teasingly.

"Aye, and I'd be happy turning now and returning to my beloved Lonely Mountain with its stubborn rocks and dark caves," he said fondly with a far-off sweetness. "There would be much masonry to be done once they open the new chambers."

"Aye, and my home do I miss as well. Spring is upon us, though no evidence is to be seen here. At home, there would be merrymaking and feast after feast under twilight stars. Mithryn and I would dance and laugh," he said smiling before a mournful frown replaced it. "Never again shall that be," he said sadly.

Pippin listened to their conversation intently from the back of Gandalf's horse, thinking of his own home and what he wished to enjoy once more, knowing it, too, would never be.

Sad thoughts drifted around them until the black gate had been reached, and, in the face of battle, melancholy reflections were pushed hastily aside. They steadied their horses and hearts and prepared for death, each accepting his fate.

"I hope Aragorn is right," Gimli said, blinking at the massive, evil gate.

"Right about what? Legolas inquired.

"Frodo!" Gimli whispered. "But how could the lad sneak his way in there without its lord knowing? It seems too impossible for me to hope."

"There is always hope," Legolas said, though feeling very little of it himself.

With Aragorn's guidance, they rode out to a mid-point on the field of Cormallen; Aragorn, shouting out, demanded Sauron's surrender.

"Does he really believe Sauron will come?" Pippin whispered, but was not met with any reply save a hushing glance from Gandalf. Though he tried to be brave, Pippin quaked at the thought of Sauron, himself, fast approaching.

At once the menacing gate opened and the Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dûr rode out with a band of loathsome orcs.

Words were said, insults given, but all quickly tired of this idle preamble. The Lieutenant had one surprise in his keeping, however, a bundle of belongings, property of Frodo. This was a heavy blow, but at dire moments Gandalf was quick to think and act. He grabbed the belongings, and bandying words with Sauron's slave once more, they turned and rode back to their army.

There was no time to contemplate their sorrows, or of the fate of the Ring. The black gate swung wide once more, spilling out all the filth and last remaining of Sauron's army which out-maned them by ten to one. Legolas dismounted and set Gimli down where he could better wield his axe.

"Well Gimli," Legolas said, "it has been an honour fighting with you."

"The honour has been all mine, elf," Gimli replied, smiling up at his friend. Suddenly, the host of Mordor had reached them, and the combat began.

Legolas had barely a moment to think, his enemies were so thick around him. They were no match for his skill, however, and side by side, Legolas and Gimli swung their blades slashing Orc belly and throat. The filth and stench of Mordor was heavy, indeed, as more and more filed out of the foul fortress, never stopping. For a moment, Legolas had begun to loose heart. "Well," he thought to himself as he slit through beast and bone, "if this is where I die, I welcome it. Much shall I miss, and if I am meant to forever dwell in the halls of Mandos, then, so be it. How I shall miss Mithryn, though."

It was at that moment that a familiar call blared out, clear and strong as the silver iavin of Mirkwood. "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!" Legolas's eyes immediately flew upwards to see the massive Eagles soaring rapidly toward them, screeching their threatening challenge to their enemy, the Orcs.

A great fear took the hosts of Mordor, and where the Eagles flew, the repulsive beasts ran in madness, desperately trying to hide from the outstretched talons, razor sharp, and skillfully grasping the foul beasts only to drop them to their deaths.

Legolas smiled up at the beautiful birds and, suddenly, he noticed the wind had changed. A strong breeze blew in from the south catching their pennants and Legolas's breath. Immediately, a great rumble could be heard, shaking the very earth they stood upon. All ceased fighting and turned in alarming captivation toward Mount Doom. It exploded, causing a rush of molten lava to shoot up into the air, and without warning, the great tower, which Sauron himself rested upon, began to crumble, falling into a heap of rubble at its base.

A great chaos ensued in which Orcs screamed in horror and ran in madness to their deaths as the very earth they trod upon swallowed them whole. Only the earth with the army of Gondor and free-peoples of Middle Earth remained intact, allowing them to watch in awe the final destruction of Sauron.

When the rumbling had ceased and the earth became quiet, Gandalf turned to Aragorn and whispered words that were unimaginable just a short time ago.

Gimli saw this, but was too far away to hear. "What did he say, Legolas?" Gimli demanded, eager for knowledge. "What did Gandalf say?"

Unable to believe it himself, Legolas smiled and turned to his friend. "Sauron is defeated. The Ring is destroyed. We've won!"

"We've won?" Gimli repeated in disbelief. "Surely, it cannot be! Can it really be true?" Then, Gimli let out a loud, boisterous laugh, and grabbed his dear friend's hand, shaking it profusely. "Well, well, Elf, and you would have me despair! Never, say I, for I knew from the beginning this mission was not insanely hopeless! You have seen with your own eyes, not even the armies of Mordor could stop this Dwarf!"

Legolas laughed, but his humour was quickly halted. A shadow cast over his face, and a tear fell.

"What is this?" Gimli asked, noticing his sorrowful face. "What would make you so aggrieved at a moment such as this?"

"I remembered what must have occurred for this event to have taken place," Legolas said, his face downcast.

"And what is that?" Gimli asked.

"Frodo and Sam," Legolas replied sadly, turning back to gaze again at the erupting mountain, still spewing its torrent of fiery ore high into the billowing sky. "We could not hope for them to have survived such an explosion."

"Alas, for that," Gimli said dismally. "I have no mood to be merry now."

The great company made their way back into Gondor, resting neath the sweet beech trees for a night's well deserved rest. Gandalf, however, did not go with them as he left in search of Frodo and Sam. Little expectation was there of finding two little Hobbits alive on Mount Doom, but the dream was not absurd for it was not terribly long before he returned on top of Gwaihir, the windlord, with Frodo and Sam snugly and safely grasped in his large claws.

The two Hobbits, barely alive, were quickly tended to and their injuries looked after. It was surprising, indeed, to discover Frodo's finger missing, but the story concerning that adventure would surely have to wait until the two unconscious and depleted heros had awoken. They slept under the trees, and Gandalf never left them for a moment. He sat smoking his pipe, contemplating recent events with an enchanting smile upon his face. Twice had Legolas and Gimli visited them while they were still sleeping, anxiously wishing to speak to their friends, but left each time with the joyful knowledge that they, whom they had believed perished, were alive and well and close by.

Elladan and Elrohir sat by a rushing stream, happily listening to its bubbling water. At length, Legolas and Gimli joined them neath the tall, swaying trees. "You have chosen an ideal elvish spot, my friends," Legolas said.

"How relieving it is to know it is now safe," Elladan replied. "No more orcs, Nazgûl, or ever-watchful evil eye."

"Aye, now I can be happy," Gimli said, sitting against the tree. "A life of peace, I wonder what that shall be like?"

"Wearisome and dull, do you think, Gimli?" Legolas inquired, smiling.

"Nay! There are Orcs enough in Moria, hiding in the cracks and crevices. Now that the Balrog is no more, we shall return to Moria and delve once again into the mines. Ahhh!" he exclaimed, smiling in happy thought of riches beyond imagination.

"I am thankful your future is not my own. How I long to view the sea!" Elrohir said, gazing out over the meadow as the wind blew the long grass to and fro.

"And I am thankful I do not share your future, Master Elrohir," Gimli said. I dislike boats and am happy never to set foot on one again. It is not proper for dwarves to ride on water. However, you shall not sail for a while, yet, surely!"

"Time is shortening, indeed," Elladan said as he gazed up into the wisps of blue in the treetop filled sky. "We have done what we set out to do; Middle Earth is now safe. Our time here is coming to an end, Master Gimli. Soon all of elf-kind shall sail away, never to return."

Gimli shot an anxious glance at Legolas, but his friend was silent and avoided his eyes.

"But you already know this, Gimli," Elrohir said gently. "Do you really love Elves so much that you grieve at the thought of a world without them?"

"Nay, but the parting of good friends is never a pleasure," Gimli said, stiffening.

"In that you speak the truth. However, you are mortal and, therefore, sooner or later, we must bid you farewell," Elladan said before he rose, and his brother with him. "We shall now wander awhile and explore this beautiful place. Do you care to come with us?"

"Nay, I thank thee," Gimli said, shaking his head. "I wish to be near when the Hobbits awake."

"I, too," Legolas said, and the twin brothers strolled out of view.

A few moments passed in silence as Gimli glanced anxiously at his friend. "When they sail," he said at long last, "shall you sail with them?"

"Though I do desire it, for a time I am bound here. And what of you? When dwarves take back the mines of Moria, will you go with them? I remind you of a promise you once made."

"I need no reminding, elf! A promise given by a dwarf is a promise kept. You, also, gave such a promise. Do you not recall?"

"I remember my vow," Legolas said, "and like you, shall keep my word. When Aragorn is crowned king, we shall journey onward for a while. Fangorn Forest! How like a child I felt neath its boughs!"

"And the glittering caves! Do not be forgetting the caves! Oh, they make me weep with anticipation!"

"But not too long can we wander. I know my family worries for me, and they do not yet know what has occurred. My wife..." Legolas said, thinking back to her standing in the sunshine, smiling, "I miss her greatly."

"Yes, I long to see this wife of yours. Much have I heard of her beauty, though in my opinion, she cannot be as beautiful as the fair Galadriel."

"Nay, not so fair perhaps, but the most beautiful mortal I ever beheld." Legolas went on to describe Mithryn's beauty and features, character and temperament. "Many stories have I to tell you of her wondrous accomplishments."

"I suppose I shall have to see her to understand," the dwarf said before closing his eyes, and falling asleep.

**PART II**

Haldof sat down in a huge armchair next to the hearth, a dark grimace upon his face. "I cannot excuse his behaviour, Father. He has no sense of duty or honour."

Thranduil sighed and slowly sipped his crimson wine. "You over exaggerate, my son, surely! Naught but two times has he been late this week. I have known you to be late many times, or never appear at all."

"Father, he is allowing his private affairs to interfere with his duties to our kingdom! Now, I understand..."

But the king would hear no more. With a wave of his hand, his son was suppressed. "Hush, pray, no more, Haldof. Galamed is newly married, and due to what occurred on the night of his nuptials, I have given him plenty of..."

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door cutting the king off. He bade the person enter and a guard approached, a tightly scrolled letter in his hand. "From Lord Elrond, your Majesty," he said, placing the roll of parchment in Thranduil's hand and bowing low.

"Thank you, Nalag, you may return to your duties."

The soldier bowed again, and withdrew, shutting the door behind him.

"From Elrond? What does it say?" Haldof said eagerly as Thranduil unfurled the scroll. "Does it mention Legolas?"

"I have only just received it!" Thranduil reminded him, his temper shortening.

Haldof was silenced, and sat, though not very patiently, awaiting the news. He studied his father's face intently as he read, and saw his eyes widen with surprise. It took all Haldof's strength not to enquire. After what felt like a great length, Thranduil, smiling, rolled up the parchment and gazed at his son.

"Well?!" Haldof finally exclaimed when his patience was utterly spent.

"I have good news," Thranduil replied, dragging his son's torture on as long as possible. "Extremely good news!"

"Well?!" Haldof exclaimed ardently. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

"I would have thought that a son of mine as old as you are would perhaps by now have learnt some manners and patience. In the absence of your mother, it seems I have let you run wild."

"Father, you change the subject to no avail! Pray," he begged gently, "what did Lord Elrond have to say?"

Amused, Thranduil handed the scroll over and Haldof who, taking it greedily, spread it open, thirsty for news. His eyes quickly scanned the letter before stopping and gazing up at his father in disbelief. "Can it be true? Can it possibly be true?"

"Stranger things have happened," Thranduil said, sipping his wine, quite contentedly. "So, Mithrandir is alive and well! Well, praise Eärendil for that! What a relief! I did not think we fared much hope without Mithrandir to guide the Men of the West. Our Legolas is in good hands. I can sleep well tonight knowing my dear old friend has returned to lead Gondor and Rohan!"

Haldof smiled and read the letter again, just to make sure he had not missed anything. Without warning, the door swung wide banging the wall behind it. Mithryn stepped in, clad in her bedclothes and a cape, Haldof's staff clutched tightly in her hand.

"Why, Mithryn, what is this?" Thranduil said, rising as both he and Haldof approached her, quite alarmed. "Are you ill?"

"Nay, my lord, I am quite well. I...I...I have had a vision, my lord," she said, quite breathless from her jolt.

"Tell me in a moment, but first you must sit by the fire," Thranduil said, ushering her into his own warm chair. "I will not have you catch a chill. Now," he said, waving Haldof out of his seat, and settled down into it, "tell me what you saw, my dear."

"I know not quite where to begin, my lord. So much was there to see. I understood little of the flashes of images, people and places. But of one thing I can be certain." She smiled, heart swelling, unsure of the right words. "It is all over, my lord. We need not worry anymore."

"What is all over?" Haldof asked.

"The war," she replied simply. "The war...it is over! Sauron is defeated, we've won!"

Far from jumping up in excitement, the two elves stared, unconvinced, at her, and Haldof shook his head benevolently. "I think it was naught but a dream, Mithryn. We all want Legolas to come home..."

Mithryn shook her head violently, "Nay, I know what I saw! Do you not believe me?"

For a moment, it was painful to Thranduil to meet with her earnest, steadfast gaze. "It is not that I do not believe you, child, but it is much to ask us to believe that the worst is behind us, and that the Dark Lord is defeated."

Mithryn rose up, desperate for exoneration. "Your Majesty, I swear to you on my child, your grandchild, that I saw this! Never would I invent something like this!"

"Then I believe you, my dear, and now we have the good fortune of looking forward to Legolas's homecoming! Now, you have been out of bed long, and it will not do for your health. Come, now! We shall discuss this again tomorrow." He motioned a guard to accompany her.

Mithryn stared longingly at Haldof for some assurance, yet none came. She simply nodded dejectedly at the king's command, and made no further pleas for their trust. It was obvious to her that she had not been believed. She left, and when the door was shut, Haldof turned and whispered, "You did not truly believe her, did you, Father?"

"Nay," Thranduil replied, gently, "but I had not the heart to tell her so. Poor Mithryn! She so desperately wants to believe it."

"So do we all, Father," Haldof said, and poured wine into a tall flute, drinking it down.

The following day Haldof felt an extreme chill, but it was not due to the wind. Mithryn held her chin high, and turned her head when he drew near to wish her good morning. He did not press her into conversation; he knew her moods too well by now. Three days passed in which she had refused to speak to him. Tarnil ultimately sought her out, but unable to locate her, had begun to search the palace, room by room. He had just passed his father's study, when he saw a door ajar that usually remained closed. He peeked inside, and saw a cozy fire glow.

"Oh, Mithryn, at last! I have searched everywhere for you, but had not thought to look here."

"Oh, well you have discovered my hiding place at last," she said, casting her embroidery aside. "I like to come here to escape sometimes." Tarnil and Mithryn each gazed about the room. A large wooden bed stood stalwart in the centre of the room, with old pieces of furniture cast about the room, each draped in a white sheet. Two cozy chairs sat by the fire; Mithryn in one, Tarnil sat, filling the other.

"Legolas's old bedchamber..." Tarnil said. "I come here sometimes too, half hoping in my foolish fancy that all these trials and war are naught but a dream, and he is still here."

"He is coming home, Tarnil," Mithryn said quickly, her voice full of happiness. "The war is over! He is safe, and..."

"Yes," Tarnil replied, less excited than she, "I have heard."

Her face was suddenly crestfallen. "Then you too do not believe me? You, your father, Haldof...do none of you credit me?"

"There are some... Word of your...vision has spread, and there are those who regard your belief," Tarnil said encouragingly. "I am sorry, Mithryn. I want to believe you, we all do. It is not a matter of trust."

"Aye it is, but so be it. You will all soon discover the truth. The black gate has fallen, Tarnil, the enemy crushed, good has prevailed. A new king is there is Gondor, and all is now peaceful and well. I have no cause of complaint but your distrust and the rain."

Tarnil sat reflecting her word and manner. "Very well, Mithryn, you have earned my trust. I hope you may also trust me, and forgive my having doubted you."

She smiled contentedly and was at peace. Oh, just to be believed by one was enough. "Fear not, for I hold no ill will against you. You are so gentle, unlike Haldof! He has been harassing me for days, and I still refuse to speak to him."

"Yes, I know. That is actually my reason for seeking you out. Pray, Mithryn, will you not speak to him? I ask this not as a request from him, but from myself, as he is driving me mad. One moment he is quite forlorn to have hurt your feelings so, and the following moment quite vexed for your having treated him thus."

"Nay, he does not deserve my forgiveness. Legolas would believe me if he were here, and you gone in his stead."

Tarnil finally relented his plight, acknowledging to himself that Mithryn was just as stubborn as Haldof. That evening he told Haldof all that she had said of Mordor, and Aragorn being crowned king, and of him now believing her. Haldof merely shook his head saying cynically, "You always were one for believing any weeping maiden's tall tales."

"Perhaps," Tarnil said blithely, a wine-filled silver goblet in his hand, "but it is not me that she is piqued with, is it? Let me pass on a bit of womanly knowledge for you, Brother, since it seems you have so little experience. When an opinion of a lady has caused them to fly into a passion, it is best to simply say that they are correct, and have peace." With that, Tarnil smiled, patted his brother on the back, and strode off, joining the festive company of a group of maidens.

Haldof stood a moment in contemplative repose. He saw Mithryn speaking to Elmarin by the fire, and without a second thought, stepped toward her, asking for a moment of her attention. Elmarin was quick to give it, for she went away without hesitation. Mithryn, however, felt abandoned, and up shot her chin in defiance.

"I understand you feel cross with me, but I wished you to know that I have spoken to Tarnil...and I believe now that you spoke the truth." If Haldof wished some great, mystical alteration in Mithryn, he was sorely disappointed, as no such change occurred. Moreover, her irritation actually grew!

"Very well! Thank you very much, indeed, for this show of trust on my behalf!" she said with much heartfelt venom.

Poor Haldof, however, was at an exasperated loss. "What now can you surely be angry at me for? I said I believed you! What more do you want from me?"

"Your conviction is too little too late! Had you but stood up for me in front of your father..."

"What?! First you are offended that I did not believe you, and now when I do believe you, you are further offended because I did not believe you at once?! It is I who should be incensed over your demented logic!"

"Demented, am I?!"

Galamed approached Tarnil, and they both quietly watched the scene unfold with bemusing awe. "How now, Brother?" Galamed said disbelieving. "Did Haldof truly call Mithryn 'demented'?"

"Aye, tis too true," Tarnil replied, barely containing his laughter. "Our brother has much to learn about women." Without a further word, Haldof left in a stormy huff, and Mithryn in a fiery rage. "Galamed, we must be glad that she did not marry Haldof, for what a perpetual storm that would have been!"

**Author's Note:** _If you like what you're reading, please let me know with a short review!_


	34. Chapter XXXIV King Elessar

**CHAPTER 34**

**KING ELESSAR**

**PART I**

When the destruction of the One Ring occurred, there were but three in all Middle Earth who, not having witnessed it, perceived its destruction: Elrond, Galadriel, and Mithryn. With the fall of the Dark Lord, Galadriel saw an opportunity that had never before shown itself. Dol Guildor, the evil fortress in which Sauron himself had once resided, now proved vulnerable. Lórien, itself, had been besieged twice, its borders ravaged and scarred by Sauron's merciless forces. Galadriel had come down from her beloved realm, wrathful and merciless on the now failing Dol Guildor.

She and Celeborn came with hosts of Elven archers clad in shining armour and mail, but these were not needed. Upon seeing the tower, black and mighty, the Lady Galadriel unleashed the last remaining strength of her powerful, fading ring, Nenya, releasing a ferocious energy so potent, none of the stronghold's inhabitants could run or hide from its inescapable force. Everywhere one looked orcs could be seen twisted grotesquely by the Ring's unyielding power, and orcs, mad with fear, plunged to their deaths while attempting to evade Nenya's searching grasp.

Nenya's power did not cease with the death of the last Orcs. The earth began to quake sending Dol Guildor's immense slabs of stone cascading down upon the earth, and the ground split wide, swallowing the falling tower piece by piece. Naught was left but a few giant stone bricks crudely protruding from the surface. The land became peaceful once again and all was still. What was once dark and evil, now appeared light and free as though a terrible veil had been wrested from the forest. The air cleared and had not the thick, foul odour as before. Mirkwood had been cleansed.

Needless to say, Galadriel's strength suffered from the day's events, and the Elven soldiers quickly made camp. Galadriel lay on silken blankets as Celeborn entered their grand tent, kneeling beside her. "I have sent word to Thranduil, my Love. I must go to him and speak of what we know."

Galadriel stretched a weary hand to her beloved's pale face, cupping it gently. "Be wary what you speak," she replied, wisely. Celeborn nodded and kissed his love on her smooth forehead, leaving her in the caring hands of their chief healer. His magnificent Elven mare had been prepared, and he rode triumphantly with an escort of archers to the meeting place.

The ground had shaken in Dol Guildor and it travelled onwards to Mirkwood. Thranduil had been sitting in his study at the time, and watched spellbound as his wine flute hopped along the table before it finally sailed to the floor and shattered. Taking this as a sign of imminent danger, every elf swiftly set to work, making certain all in the kingdom were safe. Mithryn had been Thranduil's first concern, but she was not unhinged with the shaking of the earth, merely startled.

Thranduil was unsure what to think. Could this be a new weapon of Sauron that caused the ground to tremble? Were his armies to be upon them at any moment? Or, perhaps it was an omen sent by Eärendil to warn them of something. Nevertheless, Thranduil was uneasy and posted double guards at his borders. But lo! Naught but a single pony came forth bearing an Elven rider from the south! If that was not odd enough, he wore a doublet not seen in Mirkwood for many long centuries. It bore the symbol of Lothlórien!

Haldof and Tarnil jumped from the tree and the strange elf dismounted. "I was wondering when you were going to come down," he said.

Haldof and Tarnil exchanged glances, and though an elf, they both maintained a vigilant eye on this stranger. "You come from a long distance, friend," Tarnil said, choosing to ignore the rude remark.

"And farther still do I need to journey. My lord commands that I deliver this," he said, clutching a roll of parchment, "to your lord. Pray lead the way."

Haldof could do little but glower at this elf's impudence. "That shall be for us to decide, friend, not you."

"Pray tell him Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien, has sent me, Haldir, with a most urgent and humble request," Haldir said pleasantly.

Glaring, Haldof replied, "Follow me."

Thranduil sat with Mithryn in his study. His eyes perused a sheet of parchment and Mithryn waited apprehensively for his verdict.

"Your speech is coming along nicely," Thranduil began, raising his eyes. "Your pronunciation is improving, but where you really require study is in your writing."

"I know," Mithryn agreed, humbly. "My elvish letters are sadly lacking the delicate scrolling of your people."

"Elves have centuries to master the fine craft of our script. I hope you will not let it affect your desire to learn. Legolas would be so proud of all you have learnt already."

Mithryn smiled and cast her eyes down in an attempt to hide her blushing face.

A knock sounded at the door, and Haldof entered. "A messenger has come, Father, from Lothlórien. He awaits admittance."

"From Lothlórien?" Thranduil repeated, obviously puzzled. "How odd. Did he give his reason for coming?"

Haldof shook his head, "Merely to deliver a letter, but he seemed secretive."

"Pray send him in," said Thranduil.

Haldof left, and Mithryn said, "My lord, do you wish to be left alone to your business?"

"Nonsense, Mithryn. If you and Legolas are to rule one day, it is best that you see how it is done."

Mithryn nodded, and watched with inquisitiveness as Haldof returned followed by a tall, handsome elf. His long blonde hair was the colour of sunshine, but his face seemed wary of his surroundings. "Your Majesty," the stranger said, bowing, "my name is Haldir. I am sent here by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel to deliver you this," he said, holding out his charge.

As Thranduil read the letter, Haldir's eyes turned toward a striking lady seated beside the hearth. Their eyes met for a moment before Thranduil interrupted the silence by rising and exclaiming, "I shall go at once! Haldof, send a servant for my horse!"

Haldof, though confused, obeyed his father's command and, stepping out, delivered the order. He returned quickly in hopes of discovering the contents of the mysterious letter.

"Shall you ride with me or return south?" Thranduil asked Haldir.

"Nay, your Majesty. My lord bade me guide you," Haldir said.

"Very well. We shall depart within ten minutes," Thranduil said, exiting.

All bowed as he departed, and Haldof turned to Haldir, more bewildered than ever.

Haldir smiled roguishly at him and said, "Haldof is it?"

"Aye," Haldof confirmed, distrustfully.

"King Thranduil is your father, is he not?" Haldir inquired.

"He is," Haldof replied, uncertain of this stranger's questions.

"I thought as much. I had the pleasure of meeting your brother when he and his company rested in Lórien for a time," Haldir mentioned as casually as he could.

Mithryn gasped. "You know Legolas?"

"Aye, Lady," Haldir said, turning. "Pray excuse me. In all the commotion, we were not introduced," he said, charmingly taking her hand.

"She is the Lady Mithryn," Haldof replied, stepping closer to Mithryn as though he were a guard.

"I see," Haldir said, smiling, though not relinquishing her tiny hand. "Is she your wife, Haldof?"

"No!" Mithryn and Haldof exclaimed at once, both equally surprised. "She is Legolas's wife," Haldof quickly corrected.

"Oh, pray excuse me," Haldir said, silkily. "I cannot think how I could have made such an error. Legolas described you precisely."

Haldof's eyes narrowed, and Mithryn rose from her seat. "Pray, how did Legolas look when you saw him last?"

Haldir's eyes were at once opened. He glanced at the full belly of Mithryn, obviously with child, and his lighthearted impishness vanished. Not wishing to tease her any longer, he released her hand. "It has been many months, Lady, since I saw him, but he appeared well. I see he has been dearly missed. I am certain he will return soon."

"Hmph," was Haldof's only reply as he folded his arms and appeared as though he had a unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Thranduil mounted his horse, preparing to leave, as Haldof rushed up to his father in dismay. Haldir sat on his mare nearby, an amused smile upon his face.

"Father," Haldof beseeched, "pray, you cannot go without guards! The forest is too dangerous beyond our borders!"

Thranduil turned to Haldir who said, "My lord wishes to assure you that it is safe, your Majesty."

"Do not listen to him, Father!" Haldof said angrily. "He knows not of Mirkwood! He has not had to deal with Dol Guildor time and time again!"

Thranduil nodded. "Your bow and quiver, Haldof," he said, pointing to the weapons swung across his shoulder.

Even as Haldof handed them to him, Haldir said, "Take them if you will, King Thranduil, but they will not be needed."

Nevertheless, Thranduil agreed with his son, and swung the quiver over his shoulder, just as his son had worn it. "You are in command in my absence, Haldof," he said before turning and riding off through the thicket of trees.

Galamed walked up to his brother, and they both stared at their disappearing father. "Where does he ride with that Lothlórien elf?" Galamed asked.

"I know not, nor do I like it." Haldof turned, staring at Galamed. "You must follow him!"

Galamed quickly shook his head. "Nay, Haldof. Father does not like being crossed."

"It is for his own safety," Haldof insisted. "We know naught of this Haldir! Father takes with him no guards! No protection! I merely wish to know that he is safe."

"Then why can you not go, pray?"

"You heard Father! He asked me to command over our realm until his return. I could not abandon my duty!"

"You have not let that stop you before," Galamed pointed out. Haldof grimaced, and Galamed relented. "Oh, very well!" he said, turning toward the newly built stables.

"Now, do not be so foolish as to let yourself be seen," Haldof instructed.

"Thank you for your counsel, Haldof, but I am not such a bungler as that!"

Thranduil and Haldir had been riding for quite some time, and as they crossed the Mirkwood Mountains, the sun began to dip in the sky and turn the auspicious clouds into a vibrant purple. Haldir glanced back once or twice along the journey and as they reached the foot of the mountain said, "Your Majesty, I do believe someone is following us."

"Aye, fear not. It is just my son, Galamed," Thranduil replied nonchalantly. "Not long after we first set off did I notice him. He tries so hard to be subtle, I have not the heart to send him away. I suspect my son, Haldof, sent him to watch over me."

"More likely to watch over me, King Thranduil. Haldof did not appear to hold me in high esteem."

"That is just his way. Pay him no mind," Thranduil said lightly, and they rode onward through dusk, then nightfall, and until the stars and moon rose high in the sky. Haldir led Thranduil to a clearing where Celeborn waited by a table elegantly set with a feast fit for two kings. Thranduil dismounted, and Haldir backed away, giving the two lords their space.

"Celeborn," Thranduil said, grasping his friend's arm, "it has been too long."

"Aye," Celeborn agreed, "too long, indeed, for friends of old. Come! Will you not sit and eat? Much do we have to speak of."

**PART II**

The war had ended, and Aragorn returned to Minas Tirith as King Elessar, ruler of the West. The city exploded with celebration, the dark times had passed, and the long awaited king brought light and merriment to their woeful lives.

Legolas thought more and more of home, but knew that the time with his friends was drawing to a close. He would have many happy centuries with Mithryn, and only a few weeks, perhaps, with the Grey Company all together. He would wait. Aragorn perceived his friend's heart, and joined him on the topmost lookout one night after a mighty feast.

"The stars shine with brilliance tonight," Aragorn said, gazing upward.

"They shine for your coronation," Legolas said softly, "and for Mithryn," he thought.

"Legolas, you have not been yourself tonight. Tell me what troubles you and be at peace."

"My mind travels to my home. I feel called to it, and my heart is troubled. I long to stay, for I do not think we shall all be together again."

"There is truth in what you say, but remember that the future is still unknown. I would ask that you wait for a while, if it does not go against your will."

"Why do you wish me to stay, if I might ask?"

"Your friendship is dear to me, and I, too, feel that the Fellowship will never be together again after these last days. It saddens me so. And there is another reason, more close to my heart that I ask you to stay."

"What is it?" Legolas inquired.

"We have done what we set out to do. Sauron is defeated, peace is restored, and my throne is reclaimed. There is one remaining thing that I desire. I am expecting a host from Rivendell any day now."

"A host from Rivendell? Why?"

"Unlike you, my love has been denied since my first sight of Arwen. One wish have we shared, and that was for our marriage."

Legolas nodded, understandingly, "Arwen has told me of your plight. Do you believe her to be coming, then?"

Aragorn stared as far as his eyes could see into the west, but no sight did he see of the Elves of Rivendell. "They are coming; I'm certain of it. Our heart's desire will be fulfilled at long last."

Legolas did not speak it, but sadly thought, "Nay, not your heart's desire, my friend. T'would be your heart's desire to spend every moment of eternity in blissful love with the one who holds your heart. But, nay. That cannot be. Alas, that it cannot be."

For weeks Legolas waited, his gaze transfixed westward, anxious for news of his home, anxious to see old friends, and anxious for his dear friend's heart. At long last, off to the horizon was the unmistakable flag of Elrond! Rising excitedly, he nudged Gimli with his foot who was snoozing in the evening sun. "Gimli, awake! They are coming!"

Gimli awoke with a jerk, and squinting, followed the elf's hand which pointed far off into the distance. "I see naught!" Gimli declared. "And you have disturbed my sleep!"

"Nevertheless, they come. I must tell Aragorn," Legolas said before rushing off to find the king.

Legolas caught Aragorn upon the stairs and excitedly told him the glad tidings. Strangely, Legolas thought, Aragorn did not appear amazed. "How is it you already know?" Legolas asked.

"I have just seen my messengers, and they have told me the news. I am surprised! For once, men better elves!" Aragorn said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Pray," Legolas beseeched, "do not tell the dwarf. I would never hear the end of it."

"I shall not breathe a word!"

At last, on the Eve of Midsummer, the party had arrived. All in the kingdom struggled for a glance of so rich and wondrous fair a gathering that had not been seen in Minas Tirith in an age or more. Legolas stood by his friends, Gimli on one side, Gandalf and the Hobbits on the other.

Arwen approached Legolas and embraced him. Pippin stared up at her with wide, unblinking eyes.

"_Mae govannen_, Legolas," Arwen said, smiling as her radiance emanated from within her.

"_Mae govannen_, Arwen," Legolas replied. "How happy I am to see you again, especially here. How do I express my happiness for you and Aragorn?"

Arwen smiled, her heart blushing with warmth and love. "You already have, my dear friend." She turned, and spoke some tender words to Gandalf. Celeborn approached Legolas. "Young Legolas," he began, "you will be pleased to know that your father awaits your swift return."

"You have seen my father?" Legolas asked, astonished.

"Nigh on three months ago. You will find your home much altered," Celeborn said, vaguely.

"How so?" Legolas said, suddenly frightened.

"You shall see upon your return," Celeborn said as he walked away.

Legolas tried repeatedly to gain more information from Celeborn, but without success, and even his old friend Arwen appeared elusive. Legolas and Gimli stepped away from the party as a very jolly Merry and Pippin were singing quaint Hobbit songs much to their listeners' delight.

Stepping out into the night, Legolas told Gimli of his fears, and Gimli dismissed his worries by saying casually, "Think naught of it, Legolas. You elves delight in engaging in cryptic games with one another. Mark my words, they are merely having a little jest on your behalf."

"I do not think so," Legolas said, his mind turning and turning in tortured thought.

"Do not heed them!" Gimli assured. "All will be still as stones when you return. Furthermore, if you were to leave for home this very night, you would not be there so much earlier if you were to wait for me! Naturally, I will follow you if you ask it of me, but I would regret missing such a party as Aragorn's wedding can afford."

Legolas smiled down at his friend. Such a wise and dear friend did he have in Gimli. Legolas felt he could not have wished for a better. Who would have thought that an elf and a dwarf would become such devoted friends. "Very well, Gimli. You put me at ease. I shall wait."

"Very good!" Gimli said, clapping his hands together. "You shall not regret it! Our departure is in the near future, and we shall not tarry long in Fangorn Forest, I assure you!" Together they turned, and rejoined the party.

**Author's Note:** _Kindly review, please!_


	35. Chapter XXXV The Time Has Come

**CHAPTER 35**

**THE TIME HAS COME**

**PART I**

The time had at last come for Aragorn and Arwen's wedding. Brilliant stars filled the nighttime sky, and a warm summer breeze wafted sweetly around those in attendance. Legolas stood beside Gimli and the Hobbits who waited impatiently for the ceremony to begin.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, "I'm hungry. How long do you think it's going to last?"

"I don't know, Pip," Merry said, now scolding himself for not having put an apple or two in his pocket.

"Do you think I have time to run to the kitchens?" Pippin asked, hopefully.

"I shouldn't think so," Frodo said, laughing. "The wedding's about to begin. See! There's Aragorn now."

"Legolas," Pippin whispered, tugging on the elf's doublet, "how long do elvish weddings usually last?"

"Oh, not long, Pippin," Legolas said, smiling. Pippin sighed, now relieved he wasn't going to have to wait forever for the festivities. "However," Legolas continued, "Elven tradition stipulates that those in attendance can neither eat nor drink until the two days of chanting are complete."

"Two days of chanting?!" Pippin repeated loudly. Gandalf shot a reproaching glance Pippin's way, and his face promptly turned scarlet.

"The elf teases you, I think, young hobbit," Gimli said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Pippin gazed up at Legolas with hope-filled eyes, and Legolas could not deceive the impish creature any longer. "Alas, Gimli speaks the truth. You will not have long to wait for the banquet feast, poor starveling."

Sighing with relief, Pippin smiled and at once began to enjoy himself. The nuptials soon began and all stood transfixed at the radiant elf-bride as she walked down the aisle towards her beloved.

Sam sighed. "I wonder what Rosie Cotton's doing about now. How I miss seeing that pretty, pretty face. She, too, could be walking down the isle as we speak," he said with a catch in his voice.

"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo assured. "I'd wager Bag End that Rosie's sitting at home thinking of you this very moment."

Sam turned to him and whispered, "But you don't own Bag End no more, Mr. Frodo."

"Oh!" Frodo said, only now remembering that before departing, he had sold it to his cousins, the Sackville- Baggins's. "I had forgotten. Well, it is done, and my new home is as fine a hole as any Hobbit could wish for. As are my friends the best friends anyone could be granted," he said, placing his arms on the shoulders of Merry and Sam.

Twelve days after the wedding, once the feasts and celebrations had ceased, the travelers once again thought of their homes and loved ones, and longed to return. Legolas shared in this desire, and though not wishing to be separated from his friends, felt a compelling pull homeward, as though it called to him. Because of sentiments, he had been ignoring it for many weeks, but as time passed, louder and more pressing the call came to him.

The night before their departure, the Grey Company, the last of the Fellowship, gathered together reminiscing of times that once seemed perilous, but were now, happily, far away.

"I was about to burst when I saw that Balrog, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, laughing. "I wanted nothing more than to dig a hole right there and then, and never climb out of it again. I still cannot think how we got out of there alive."

"Not all of us did, did we?" Gandalf said, his eyes smiling.

The company stared at the old wizard a moment before merrily laughing at his joke.

"I was never so frightened," said Pippin, "as when we were taken by those Uruk-hai. They smelt worse than old Fizzywig himself! I had not thought that possible."

"Oh, surely not as bad as Fizzywig," Merry interjected.

"You say that, Pippin," Legolas said, "because you did not walk upon the dreaded Paths of the Dead."

"Dead?!" Pippin said, eyes wide with horror. "Dead what?"

And such did their lighthearted conversation continue through the night and into the wee light of the morning. None wished to say good-bye.

When time had finally called for some rest before the journey homeward, Legolas and Gimli made their way back to their rooms, both high-spirited and merry.

"What a pleasant evening spent," Gimli said, yawning and bleary eyed.

"Aye," Legolas agreed, "pleasant, indeed. How sad that such nights are numbered."

"Nonsense!" Gimli said, boisterously. "We will see each other many times, I am sure, in the years to come."

"Years to mortals are but moments in time to elves, my friend," Legolas said, cheerlessly. "Forever remembered...never to return."

"There you go again!" Gimli said, raising his arms in protest. "You are a very fine friend, even for an elf, but you are forever moaning of time. It gets depressing! Take some advice from a dwarf, who is wiser, perhaps, than your mighty self. Think naught of the future but of this very moment. It is how you live this second that counts. There are countless times when you could have been slain on such a quest as we endured, and yet you live. I live. Frodo lives. Good has overcome all that evil could produce, and for once, we can live in peace. Be happy, for mercy's sake and leave time be!"

Legolas laughed, and placed an appreciative hand on Gimli's shoulder. "How very wise you are, Gimli."

"You are only just realizing this? Well, it is high time you did! Come! Enough talk! My bones ache and my head is weary for sleep. Pray wake me when the time has come for our departure."

"Not breakfast?"

Gimli paused a moment. "I mistake. Breakfast!"

**PART II**

It was on the birth of August that Haldof first noticed a change in Mithryn's usual demeanor. She no longer fought his obtrusiveness, or sharp tongue. Far from her manner giving satisfaction, it purely threw his mind in an uproar. Little did she say now. She merely sat, ate, and grew pale. Haldof could see her wither before his eyes, and he knew not what to do.

"She is not well," he told his brothers as they watched her staring off into nothingness. "A change has occurred. Farther in her pregnancy does she go, and she does not improve. I am worried. If Legolas does not come home soon..."

"Legolas will come," Galamed assured, but concern was evident on his face as well.

"What does Father say?" Tarnil asked.

Haldof's face stiffened. "He is dwarf-headed! He refuses to listen or see reason. He will not even speak to her of it and forbids me to do so, as well."

"She is fragile," Galamed said, eyes attentively on Mithryn. "Perhaps Father is right. There is a chance the child may be born alive if Mithryn believes her life is safe. If she knew the truth, she could lose hope and give in to her fate."

"Her pregnancy is near an end," Tarnil said, voice filled with hope. "Perhaps all will come to rights and both will be fine."

Haldof merely shook his head dejectedly at his brothers. "Both of you are like Father and of no use to me!" He stormed off and Galamed made move to follow, yet Tarnil held him back.

"Nay, Galamed," Tarnil said. "Let him be. Poor Haldof. He carries the weight for all of us."

Haldof was torn. He could not disobey his father, and yet, his heart, his instinct commanded otherwise. Now more than ever did he long to have Legolas at his side. "What would Legolas wish me do?" he asked himself imploringly, searching his soul for a solution to his query.

He thought a while in silence, watching the sun sink from the treetops as he sat on his talan. When the sun had finally disappeared, his decision had been made. He jumped out of the flet, landing sturdily on the ground, and went looking for Mithryn.

Galamed had seen Haldof coming, and it was something in his stone-like expression, revealing neither thought nor emotion, that caught his attention. "Haldof," Galamed said as he drew near, "where do you go off to?"

"To find Mithryn. This deceit will cease at last," Haldof said, continuing to walk.

"Nay!" Galamed said, grabbing Haldof's arm. "You cannot do it! Father has forbidden it!"

"It is about time that Mithryn knew the truth," Haldof said, yanking away his arm, "and you will not stop me!" Haldof broke into a run, making for the winding stair of Mithryn's bedchamber with Galamed close behind. Haldof barged into her room, and stopped dead. Not two seconds later, Galamed burst in, and froze as well. Mithryn sat in a chair by the window, hunched over, face contorted with pain. Haldof was first to come to his senses and rush to her side.

"Mithryn! Fear not. We are here now."

She opened her eyes, staring into Haldof's. "It is time," she whispered. "The child is coming."

Haldof's eyes opened wide and he turned to his dumbfounded brother. "Go, Galamed. Tell Father. Call the healers. Stand not amazed, Brother, go!"

"But Haldof," Galamed said, backing away, "you will not tell..."

"You would argue with me at this moment?" Haldof shouted, placing his gentle hands on Mithryn's back. "There is not the time! Go!"

Galamed left, and Haldof turned back to the trembling woman beside him. "Mithryn, you cannot remain here. You should lie down, I think."

"I will walk," Mithryn said, attempting to get up, only to be seized in paralytic pain again.

Haldof's reaction was quick. He swept Mithryn up in his arms, and placed her gently on the bed. She did not even complain, however, her eyes and fists clenched tightly. He watched her with growing concern, even wishing he could absorb her agony himself.

"Is it so very painful?" he asked, stupidly, not knowing what else to say.

Not being able to speak, she merely nodded her head until the contraction had subsided. "What had Galamed said? Do not tell? What are you not permitted to tell me?"

Now suddenly bashful, Haldof could not meet her eye. About to give birth to Legolas's child, and not expected to survive, Haldof could not tell her the truth of all he knew. "Nothing," he replied lamely, and another contraction, far worse than the last overtook her.

**Author's Note:** _Please review!_


	36. Chapter XXXVI Eryn Lasgalan

**CHAPTER 36**

**ERYN LASGALAN**

When Legolas awoke, the first sounds to meet his ears were the soft chirping of birds and the blatant snoring of Gimli. Upon opening his eyes, Legolas's first thought was that he was back in Mirkwood. But, nay. Not in Mirkwood, but in Fangorn: a strange wilderness unlike any Legolas had before witnessed. He longed to explore it and was happy Gimli and his faithful horse, Arod, were there to share the experience before his return home.

Legolas would not have thought it so difficult to part with his good friends as they all made their farewells yesterday. Knowing the fragility and uncertainty of mortal lives only increased his sense of finality, sadness and loss. Legolas and Gimli had promised each other this one last adventure before returning, and each seemed heartily glad for the company.

Suddenly, a loud pounding approached which shook the earth, startling Gimli out of his sleep. He snorted loudly awake. "What is blazes is that?" Gimli shouted, now on his feet, axe dangerously ready.

"That would be our friend, Treebeard, I believe," Legolas answered, staring with captivation at the mysterious looking weald.

"Hoom, hoom! You are awake, my little friends, I see," Treebeard said when he had at last reached them.

"Aye, we are awake and well rested, thank you, Eldest," Legolas replied.

"That is good," said Treebeard, "for much is there to see today. The forest holds many secrets. Hoooom! Many secrets indeed. Some so old there are few who can remember them."

A nearby tree suddenly grumbled in complaint. Gimli froze and glanced nervously about him and raised his axe. "I have no wish to know any such secrets, thank you!" he said to whatever might be listening.

Legolas could not help but laugh at his friend's discomfort, and even Treebeard stretched his bark-like face into a smile. "Fear not, little Dwarf. They shall not harm thee while I am near."

"That comforts me greatly," Gimli muttered, wholly unconvinced.

"You see," the ent said, gently, "they are distrustful of strangers. It would be wise to lower your weapon."

Legolas was undoubtedly excited at the prospect of their day's expedition, but Gimli less so. Forests were one of the least favourite haunts of Dwarves and these trees, with their moaning and groaning, seemed particularly malevolent. He longed to feel the smooth, leather handle of his axe for protection, but Legolas had insisted Arod carry it for their entire journey in Fangorn Forest.

It was unlike anything ever before seen in Fangorn. A company of an elf, a dwarf, a Rohan horse, and an ent. They wandered wide and deep, exploring and observing the strange wonders of the forest to the fullest. Legolas was in rapture, but as the days passed, grew less contented with remaining and thought more and more of home. On the seventh day of their visit, Legolas announced to Treebeard their decision to depart.

At once the face of the ent grew sad. His leaves and limbs seemed to droop, and he said, "Hoom! Hoom! Homes you must have that are longed for, but cannot you stay a while longer with me? Plenty more is there to see, hoom, that is worth seeing for an elf and a dwarf."

Legolas smiled gently, but was adamant. "I would dearly love to see these treasures, Eldest. The war has been waged, and forever are we, men, dwarves and elves, grateful for the part you and your kind have played in it. The time has come now, however, for our return. Our families have been waiting."

Gimli gazed at Legolas with elation. They were to leave! They were to depart from this wretched, miserable forest forever! "Aye, we are very sorry to leave you, Treebeard," Gimli said, nodding profusely, "but the elf is right. Home calls to us."

"Fear not though, Eldest," Legolas said swiftly. "This is not our last visit with you in this wondrous place. We shall return."

Gimli looked suddenly panicked at the thought of returning, but yielded and nodded.

"Hoom! Doom!" Treebeard called. "You are hasty as Hobbits, but perhaps that is because you are so young. Very well! We shall not make our farewells now, however, but at the westmost Fangorn border."

They reached the skirt of the forest by mid-afternoon, and even then, Treebeard had hopes that they would change their minds and remain for a few days more. Grateful but resolute, Legolas and Gimli insisted they could not, but again thanked their friend for his generous hospitality.

"Hoom! Think naught of it, my young friends. I am only saddened. The world has changed. Some for the better, some not so. The Elves, tree teachers, wisest and fairest, and oh, I shall not say their whole name for that would take a long time, indeed, are departing forever more. How very sad that it is so. Well, farewell, my friends, until we meet again."

Climbing onto Arod, Legolas heaved Gimli up. They waved and sped away across The Wold, following the Limlight River. Once had Gimli turned back for a last glance at Treebeard, only to find him vanished among the thick trees.

They had rode long across the rolling hills of Rohan, but seemed to make little headway. Daylight was waning and they had just ridden to the spirited Anduin River. Legolas dismounted and plucked Gimli off Arod. "We should rest here tonight, Gimli, and be off at sunrise."

Gimli grunted his approval and, glancing to his left, gasped with enthralled delight. "What forest lies yonder? I could not hope for it to be the fair Lothlórien."

"Your eyes do not cheat you," Legolas replied, amused. "The weald is, indeed, close."

Gimli stared up at him, pleadingly. "Oh, could we not just stop for a visit, perhaps?"

"I am sorry, my friend, but it is not on our way. I fear that we would tarry there too long, and already I am troubled by a disturbing dream of home. I cannot help but feel that something is amiss."

"You long to gaze into the face of your lady. Very well," Gimli said, relenting. "That is something I can well understand," he said, thinking of the fair Galadriel.

As the days passed, the three companions moved ever closer toward Mirkwood Forest. Legolas had noticed a peculiar alteration, however. Even at a distance, the weald seemed airy and cheerful, and had appeared to have lost its ominous gloom. "It is the Greenwood of my youth," Legolas said, transfixed.

Gimli turned ferociously to Legolas. "You said there would be Orc necks to hew!"

"I thought there would be, and perhaps there are. I know not what has happened here. Come! Let us ride hard and attempt to solve this riddle."

After an hour's hard ride, the Mirkwood border had at last been reached. Jumping off Arod and placing Gimli on firm ground, they approached the entrance into the forest with extreme care. Nervous, Gimli readied his axe, and Legolas prepared his bow. "There are eyes. We are being watched," Legolas said, though unsure of where the eyes were.

"Halt!" a clear voice, rang out. "Do not shoot!"

Turning, Legolas saw an elf known to him. He lowered his bow, aghast. "Friend, what do you do here?"

Haldir smiled, wryly, and other elves, clad with bows and arrows made themselves known. "Prince Legolas, Master Gimli," Haldir said, bowing slightly. "We have been expecting you, and began to fear you may have gotten lost," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Gimli let out a disputing snort. "Lost? I think not, Master elf! Far and wide have we journeyed, including into Mordor itself. This Elf and Dwarf have never gotten lost!"

"I know," Haldir said, softening. "Pray forgive my quip, Master Gimli."

"What has happened here?" Legolas said gazing about the trees crowned with sun-filled leaves, birds twittering and soaring, and squirrels and rabbits foraging merrily in the grass.

Haldir stared at them. "You do not know?"

Legolas and Gimli shook their heads, and Haldir continued. "I would have thought my Lady would have told you. Did you not see her in Minas Tirith?"

"Aye, but Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn said nothing of Mirkwood. Their answers were always so enigmatic."

Haldir smiled at that remark, saying, "Aye. Wise are they indeed. Perhaps wisest and fairest of all our kind here in Middle Earth. I am certain their reasons for not telling you were honourable."

Gimli spoke up irritably, "But you have yet to tell us, Elf, what has happened here!"

"Have I not?" Haldir replied silkily. "My apologies. Mirkwood, my dear friends, is no more. Pray let me welcome you to Eryn Lasgalan!"

"The Wood of Greenleaves?" Legolas said, translating. "How has this happened?"

"It has been cleansed," Haldir said.

"Cleansed?" Gimli repeated, confused.

"Cleansed," Haldir repeated. "By Lady Galadriel herself. Dol Guldur is no more, and no orc remains in Mirkwood to tell the tale of its ruin."

"But...how? When?" Legolas asked, hungrily.

"All will be answered, I swear to you, but now you must be hungry for good elven dinners," he said and then that twinkle again appeared in his eye, "and starved for the superior company of Elves!" Gimli sputtered and shot him a withering glance. "Everything is already prepared for you, and your cousins await and are anxious to hear of your adventures."

It was some hours later, as Haldir sat with his guests at dinner, that he explained the whole of the destruction of Dol Guldur. Gimli, however, did not seem as impressed as Haldir would have liked.

"That is nothing!" Gimli said, burping. "Until you have seen with your own eyes, the black Tower of Barad-dûr fall, you have seen nothing, my friend."

Haldir smiled, and cunningly changed the subject. "By and by, you have an intriguing wife, my cousin."

"You have seen her?" asked Legolas incredulously.

"But of course," Haldir said, amused. "I delivered a message to your father from my lord, and was fortunate enough to be presented to her by your brother, Haldof."

"So!" Gimli exclaimed boisterously, "She was not just a figment of your imagination! Tell me, Haldir. Is she as beautiful as our Legolas tells me?"

"I have little knowledge of beauty where mortals are concerned," Haldir said. "However, I thought her enchanting."

"Tell me," Legolas said, "how was she when you saw her?"

Haldir thought carefully for a moment, recalling her pregnant condition. "She appeared in the best of health," he replied.

The next morning, Legolas, Gimli and Arod resumed their journey only now under the glistening shroud of trees which had once caused great trepidation to Legolas. The forest was, indeed, cleansed. No more dangers lurked behind boles, or laid in wait to attack passersby caught unawares. All evil had been purged, and Gimli strolled with Legolas who continued to examine the ancient trees, flittering birds, and merry light of the forest with ceaseless amazement.

A day had passed, and still the delighted smile could not be removed from Legolas's face. Gimli, however, had ceased finding the forest delightful and longed for more conversation from his friend that extended beyond, "It is just as the forest from my youth!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Gimli exclaimed when Legolas had once again repeated the like. "I have heard you! Legolas, you are obviously very merry at this event, but you cannot allow it to transform you into a tedious friend!"

"I am sorry, Gimli," Legolas said, laughing at his own expense. "Perhaps I have been a trifle dull."

"Think naught of it. I can see home means much to you. Though, how you Elves can live with so much green around you, I shall never understand. Give me the cold grey of the mountain and a deep, plentiful mine and I am happy!"

"But that is because..." but Legolas stopped short, staring with a curious expression on his face.

"What is it? Orcs?!" Gimli swung up his axe quickly in eager desperation, yet Legolas shook his head.

"Nay, Gimli. No orcs. I recognize this place."

Gimli lowered his axe, disappointed. "You had me thinking we would be having some fun on this journey home!"

"I am sorry, Gimli," Legolas said, steering off of their path.

"Legolas! This is not our path! Where does that old trail lead?"

Legolas, however, did not answer, but merely followed the thin, winding little path onwards as high hills towered on each side of him. They came to a glade, and Legolas's breath caught in his mouth.

Walking fast to keep up, Gimli at last joined Legolas and stared into the opening of the forest. A decrepit cabin sat at the foot of a towering willow tree and near a glittering pond. "A broken down old cottage? This is what you wished to show me?"

Legolas smiled, his heart filling with warmth. "This is where I met Mithryn," he explained. He strode nearer to the small hut which had once offered him so much warmth and delight. Its doors had fallen off its hinges, and lay collapsed on the grassy earth. Windswept leaves lay about a deserted kitchen, and an over-grown herb garden grew at its rear. He bent down and plucked a stem filled with clusters of snow white flowers. The scent of almonds filled his nose as he sniffed the bloom. "Ulmaria..." he whispered in private ecstasy.

"Perhaps I should leave you two alone?" Gimli said roguishly.

"Mithryn..." Legolas began before being interrupted by an impatient Gimli.

"Mithryn! Mithryn! I swear, elf, you think of naught else! May I offer you a suggestion?"

"Aye."

"You know this place. How far are we from your home?"

Legolas thought a moment. "I believe it took us three days."

"Three days with a lady, perhaps. Do you recall also how quickly we followed those Uruk-hai that captured the young Hobbits?"

"I do," Legolas replied, smiling.

"That was on foot. We have a horse! Though I cannot believe I am saying this, we could make it to your father's home in little more than a day's hard ride."

"What's this, Gimli? You are asking for a ride on Arod?"

"Yes, yes, it is just that I am sick of your constant moaning for your wife!"

"Thank you, Gimli, and you are right! Arod is swift, indeed, and we could surely make it there in a day."

"Or maybe less!" Gimli added.

"Come then, Gimli! Legolas said, tucking the willowy flower safely into his doublet. "Let us ride! Too long has she waited for my return."

Legolas picked Gimli up and set him on Arod who seemed ready for a vigorous ride. With a spring in his step, Legolas jumped on, and they rode off taking the very same road Legolas, Mithryn and Anfalas had taken but a year before. Legolas smiled as the trees whipped past him. "I am coming, Mithryn," he whispered to himself. "I am coming."

**Author's Note:** _Kindly review, please!_


	37. Chpater XXXVII The Warriors Return

**CHAPTER 37**

**THE WARRIORS RETURN**

Arod rode hard and fast for countless hours before finally requiring rest. Legolas was reluctant to stop, but would never have commanded his steadfast horse to ride to exhaustion after serving him so faithfully. They were now only five hours on foot from the eastern border of his father's kingdom. "How odd it feels to be so close to home," Legolas said to Gimli as they sat by the fire. "It seems an age since I was here."

"Now, I recall you having said that a year is but a day to an elf," Gimli replied cleverly.

"Never before has time passed so slowly, and yet, so swiftly."

"Welcome to time as the rest of us know it," Gimli said, rolling over and finding a comfortable spot with his back to the crackling fire. He was soon snoring sonorously much to the annoyance of the tranquil animal inhabitants in the near and far environs.

The next morning they resumed their journey. Far from riding with haste and fierceness, the warriors walked the last distance at a calm pace, recollecting the hardships and triumphs they had experienced together in days now passed. It was the end of a very long journey together, but certainly not their last, though neither had any knowledge of it.

With every step closer to home, Legolas's anxiety increased. The border was finally within sight; Legolas smiled, and turned to his friend. "There it is, Gimli. I am home!"

Gimli perceived the nervousness in Legolas's voice. "Through all the battles, and in the most dire situations we have been in together, at Moria, Helm's Deep, and Mordor besides," Gimli said, confused, "you have always been fearless. How is it you come to be afraid upon returning to your own kith and kin?"

"Long have I been apart from Mithryn. She is a mortal and does not have an elf's memory. What if she loves me no longer? What if she does not forgive me for staying away so long? She may not have forgiven me for..."

"You are speaking in absurdity, Legolas. Mithryn's heart still belongs to you."

"How would you know this?" Legolas asked. "You, who have never met her."

"Any lady of whom I have heard you speak with so much adoration as to make one sick listening to you, surely has your heart in return. Worry not, my friend. She loves you still."

"LEGOLAS!" Haldof's voice called loudly and clearly through the forest. Legolas saw the flash of a golden-haired figure as it jumped effortlessly out of a tall tree, and rushed towards them. Embracing and laughing with his brother, Legolas was, indeed, grateful for this heartwarming homecoming. He remembered explicitly how hard Haldof had argued against his participation in the Fellowship. He had feared the bitterness still remained, but such concerns melted away when Haldof's bright face, smiling in the sun, was seen. "Hail, Legolas! I cannot believe it! Long have you kept us waiting for your return. Is it truly you?"

"Aye, Haldof, it is I. You have not altered, I see. You are not still angry with me, then, for leaving?"

"Angry?" Haldof exclaimed in mock disbelief. "I declare I was not! Merely jealous! I knew how it would be. To our kinsfolk you are now a hero and a great warrior who defeated Sauron singlehandedly, and I am but the knave who still is late for duty."

"Surely, still not late for duty?" Legolas teased.

"Alas, that it is so. Yet, not as late as you!" Haldof said, playfully jabbing Legolas on his arm. "We expected you a month ago at least! What delayed you?"

The loud, crisp call of the silver iavin blared out far and wide exclaiming the homecoming for all to hear and prevented Legolas's response. Upon seeing who had arrived, other elves climbed down from their lofty posts to welcome the adventurous prince. All longed to see and embrace him, making sure that he was truly safe and now home. Twas too good to be true!

Haldof noticed that Legolas had not answered his question, but decided later would be best to pester him for answers. "But, what is this?" Haldof asked warily, for the first time noticing a Dwarf standing awkwardly beside his brother's horse. "Legolas, you are the most peculiar elf ever before seen. Whenever you return from one of your adventures, you always bring home strays!"

"I...am...not...a...stray," Gimli said through his teeth, much to amusement of Haldof.

"Ai, I am sorry, my friend," Legolas replied turning back to Gimli. Haldof blinked in astonishment at the words of his brother. "Haldof," Legolas continued, "I have the very great pleasure of introducing a very dear friend to you, Gimli son of Glóin from Lonely Mountain, who has saved my life countless times."

"With your aim, I can readily believe it. But, a dwarf?" Haldof said, obviously confused.

"You may not have wit, Elf, but your eyes appear to work splendidly," Gimli growled.

Haldof blinked at Gimli, but was even more surprised by his brother's outright laughter at this impudent dwarf's insult. "Oh Gimli," Legolas said, laughing. "Pay him no mind, Haldof. He often speaks to me in such manner."

Haldof stared at his brother incredulously. "Indeed? I see you have a great deal to tell."

"Aye, Brother, much, and many great things, but later," Legolas said as even more elves came, welcoming, and weeping, so glad were they to see their champion alive and home at last. Finally able to escape the pressing throng, Legolas pulled Haldof aside and asked quietly, "Where is Mithryn? Why has she not come?"

"Mithryn?" Haldof replied, blankly.

"Aye," Legolas affirmed, "my wife. Where is she?"

Legolas walked hesitantly down the path while all the others, carefully keeping a respectful distance, followed. Stone-faced and more anxious with every step closer he took, he thought his heart would explode within his chest. Rounding a bend, he halted and gasped. Mithryn sat by a cascading stream, gently humming to a bundle in her arms. He stood frozen at the sight of her.

Mithryn was focused on the large, bright eyes of her child when the most curious sensation came over her. It felt as though someone were watching her! She slowly turned and lifted her eyes to see her husband, Legolas himself, before her. Moments passed by in which it seemed they were the only two people in the world; both hardly able to believe that what they had desired most, had happened. They were together at last. She rose and approached him, as if in a dream, holding their child gently in her arms.

"This is our child, Legolas," she said when she was finally next to him. "Our son."

Without speaking a word, Legolas reached out and pulled Mithryn and the babe close to his chest. His familiar, fresh woodland scent filled Mithryn's senses with long-forgotten memories. Closing their eyes, they were happy merely to be together once again as they shut out the rest of the world for a few stolen moments.

Gimli and Haldof watched nearby, and Gimli could not but help wiping away a very touching tear. His sniffle did not go unnoticed by Haldof, and Gimli defensively said, "It is naught but a bit of dust in my eye."

"I had not thought," Haldof said insolently, "that a Dwarf could be so moved by such a stirring scene."

"And I had not thought elves could be so haughty," Gimli replied, "and yet I am proved mistaken!"

Haldof stared a moment, before smiling despite himself. "Well met, Dwarf!"

"Extremely well met, Elf," Gimli replied, smiling himself.

"Come! As you are a guest of Legolas, perhaps it best that I show you to your quarters as your friend, my brother, is obviously occupied with other matters at present."

"Pray lead on," Gimli instructed, "unless, of course, our path leads to your infamous dungeons. I have no wish to see such a dank and miserable place of which I have heard much these past fifty years."

"Much? Who, indeed, could have spoken so ill of our cells?"

"My father, and your former prisoner, prior to the Great Battle of the Five Armies."

"Ah, now I recollect!" Haldof said. "Nay, those are not suitable quarters for a friend of Legolas, even though he may be a Dwarf." The crowd of merry onlookers, following Haldof and Gimli's example, quietly dispersed giving their dear Legolas and Mithryn some time alone.

Overwhelmed with joy, Legolas held Mithryn and their child firmly in his strong arms, not wishing to ever let them, or that moment, go. "I wish I could hold on to you forever," he whispered.

Mithryn gazed up into his handsome face, streaked with tears. "Let these tears be tears of joy," she said, wiping them away, "for though I am not immortal, how happy I am to know that our son is! When the time has come that I can no longer be with you, he can forever remain at your side, and help you remember."

"I shall need no help, but through those dark times, his company would be most comforting."

"Think not of those times ahead, my love," she said. "Think only of now, and of how happy we all are that you have returned to us unscathed. Here," she said, passing him the babe. "Here is our son, Culúril."

"Culúril? A curious name for an elven child, yet it suits him well." Legolas touched the babe's head, and saw not pale gold, not red, but strawberry coloured locks, soft as down. "Golden-red brilliance."

"Your father helped me name him. Thranduil felt Culúril's hair was so unusual for an elf, we must make special note of it." She stared into Legolas's face uneasily. "I was hesitant to name him without you, but a month passed, and still you did not appear. The king said the naming ceremony had to be performed before the first month was over. I asked him to wait..."

"Nay," Legolas said. "It could not wait. Do not worry. His name fits him perfectly. I wished I could have been there...Wait! How long did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you were carrying our child. How long after I left did you discover this?"

Mithryn stared guiltily at the mossy earth. "Not after. Before. I am sorry, my love, but I could not in good conscience tell you."

"But why?" Legolas said, hurt.

Mithryn stared at him. "You cannot tell me that you were not needed on your quest. I was torn, my heart tortured. I knew you to be destined to go, and I so desperately wished to keep you home and safe. However, in the end, I knew I could not hold you back from your fate."

"I am sorry, Mithryn," he said, slipping an arm around her waist. "I did not mean to reproach you. It must have been very difficult for you to go through all of this alone."

"Difficult enough, but let us think of this no more, my darling. You are home, our child is here safe with us, and the evil that threatened all that is good is now defeated. That is enough. Let us ask no more."

"Very well," Legolas agreed, and he looked down on his beautiful son noting reflections of his mother, himself, and Mithryn. They began to walk back to the palace where his brothers, father, and every elf in the kingdom was anxiously waiting to welcome him home again. They had not walked far when Mithryn faltered, out of breath. "I am sorry, my love," she said, wearily. "I...I did not rest well last night. I think I should rest before the festivities tonight."

"Certainly," Legolas said, for the first time noticing how tired and pale she looked.

They walked through a sea of elves, all joyously exclaiming their felicitations, and had just reached the landing, when Legolas saw his father standing tall and proud. "Pray, Mithryn, may I hand him to you? My father...I have not spoken with him yet."

"Of course, Legolas," she said, taking tiny Culúril into her arms. I'll be waiting for you." She gave Legolas a soft kiss, and slowly began to climb the stairs. Legolas strode toward his father and, immediately, the king embraced him.

"You have returned at long last!" Thranduil said, gazing at Legolas.

"I have, Father."

"Come! There is something we need to discuss."

Thranduil led a curious Legolas into his study, and promptly poured him some wine. Legolas sipped the sweet nectar and closed his eyes in blissful remembrance. It felt like home! "I am sorry I did not come to you immediately, Father. I wanted to see Mithryn most urgently. I still have not seen Tarnil or Galamed. Are they here?"

"They went out hunting early this morning. It is a shame that they missed your return, but you shall see them anon."

"What is it you wish to discuss? Sauron? He is defeated! I saw the black tower crumble with mine own eyes. What I would have given for you to see it, Father!"

Smiling, Thranduil said, "Aye, that would have been something I would have paid dearly to see. But, nay, Legolas. I wish to talk of Mithryn." He said this slowly and looked at the floor.

The lighthearted feeling vanished as soon as Legolas heard these words. "Mithryn? Why? What is the matter?"

"How did she appear to you?"

"Tired...a trifle thin perhaps. What has happened here?""Legolas," Thranduil began as gently as he could, "a great deal has happened in your absence. You have met your son."

At once, Legolas's face blushed proudly. "I cannot express to you...the feeling..."

"You need not. I have felt it four times already when you and your brothers were born. Nay, what I mean is, Mithryn's health is...delicate. Culúril's birth was...difficult."

"How?" Legolas asked, eyes wide and worried.

"Mithryn was very weak, and is weak still. A handmaiden has been forever at her side to aid her. What I am trying to say is, her constitution improves and relapses inexplicably. Right now, she is in decline. I noticed it yesterday afternoon. However, she was much better a week ago."

Sitting very still and not breathing, Legolas forced a question out of his constricted throat. "Will she ever get well?"

Thranduil sat a moment. This was the moment he had been dreading for long, dark months. The question from his son he had most feared. "Of course."

Legolas heaved a sigh. "Father, you startled me! Well, if she is ill, I am grateful to now have the opportunity to make her well again as she did for me. I am sorry, Father, but may I go? She is waiting for me. And Culúril! I long to gaze at him again."

"Of course," Thranduil said, rising. "Tomorrow we shall talk of the business of the kingdom and you can catch up on all that has happened. I also long to know of your many adventures. We are all so gladdened to have you home again, my son."

"Thank you, Father," Legolas called as he hastened out the door.

Thranduil sat down and poured himself more wine. A guilty sadness washed over him. "Nay," he thought to himself, "the truth would be too painful for them both, Legolas having missed a year away from his wife, probably her last. I will not allow him to reproach himself. I regret nothing."

**Author's Note:** _Please review if you're enjoying what you're reading!_


	38. Chapter XXXVIII Changes Near and Far

**CHAPTER 38**

**CHANGES NEAR AND FAR**

The night's festivities passed with a lighthearted merriment that had never before been known in Eryn Lasgalen. Not one Orc track had been seen since the destruction of Dol Guldur, and the unexpected feeling of freedom was only now dawning on the new world. Dressed in their elven finest, lords and ladies brought forth Legolas's favourite foods, songs of his deeds rang through the night, plans buzzed throughout the dining hall for a magnificent new tapestry depicting his adventures with the members of the fellowship to be hung in the great hall, and all around dancing and levity ruled the night.

Far away, on the other side of the forest, Tarnil and Galamed had made camp beside Othinwel, one of the grandest waterfalls in Middle Earth. The faint call of the iavin was drowned out by the rushing torrent, however, and both brothers were oblivious to the excitement happening at home.

Upon returning from their hunting expedition the next morning, Tarnil and Galamed thought themselves the object of some practical joke as friends greeted them enthusiastically with tales of Legolas's return. But then, there he was. Tears were shed and embraces given, but for the two itinerant brothers, it still appeared too good to be true. He who was believed lost, was now restored. The day was spent in laughter and sadness as stories were recounted of happenings at home and in the far reaches where Legolas's journeys had taken him.

Legolas awoke with a start, and for a moment, believed himself to be not in his bedchamber with Mithryn, but in Minas Tirith, far away. Sounds of battle filled his ears and, heart beating fast, he quickly turned to see the sleeping enchantress beside him, so peaceful in the moonlit chamber. He sighed, relieved, and contentedly watched her as his head filled with wistful dreams of the future. Countless times on his journeys had he wished to wake thus. The reality of it caused his heart to ache with gladness that he was now living his greatest ambition.

Culúril stirred in his delicately carved crib; a gift lovingly and patiently crafted by his uncle, Haldof. Legolas rose, the cool night air blowing lightly over his naked skin. He peered down into the tiny bed where his son lay. Culúril lay silently sleeping, and a pale moonbeam streamed in softly through the open window and onto the babe's face. Caressing his son's tiny head, Legolas watched in awe that which Mithryn and he had created. "This joyous gift seems truly a miracle," thought he. "Something so precious, so sacred, so innocent and rare I had not thought possible. Like me...yet...also like your mother. What manner of prince will you become, my son? What wisdom, what strength of character will be yours? Sleep well, Culúril, and dream of all that is good."

Slipping silently back into bed, he curled close to Mithryn, her warm body folding into his. "This is where I belong," he thought as his strong arms wrapped gently around his wife. "This place and nowhere else."

Mithryn's condition had neither restored nor worsened by the next day. She was extremely fatigued, however, by the late night celebration. She had wanted to rise, yet Legolas would have none of it. "You look tired, my dear," he said, coaxing her to remain in bed and rest. "Pray stay. I shall take Culúril for a walk and return in a few hours when he is hungry again. Until then, sleep!"

At last, Mithryn agreed, and Legolas lifted his son up into his arms, and quietly stepped out of the bedchamber and onto the open landing. The air was warm and fresh, and Legolas reveled in it, so happy to be home and with his wife and child.

Gimli appeared along the path, humming to himself, and Legolas flagged him down.

"Ho, little Culúril!" Gimli said, looking up into the young babe's face. "I must say, Legolas, that he has the look of thee."

"Do you think so? I see more of Mithryn, myself."

"The hair perhaps, but the ears, Legolas, the ears are pure elf!"

Legolas laughed, and began to recall duties one owes to a guest. "Have you breakfasted? I am sorry that I have not..."

"Think naught of it! Your kith and kin have been very attentive and are most generous and obliging. My father will never believe it! I have only just finished a fine meal, but will sit with you if you have yet to do so."

"Nay, thank you. I ate at dawn."

"Ah, yes," Gimli replied. "I had forgotten. Stay up late, and early risers. You Elves are strange creatures! And, has Mithryn risen, also?"

"She is still much fatigued today, unfortunately. I insisted she sleep away the morn."

"Oh, that is disappointing. I had wished very much the honour of speaking with her before my departure."

Legolas stood downcast, a babbling baby in his arms. "You surely shall not leave today?"

"I am sorry, my friend, but like you, my home has been calling to me. I know they will wonder why and where I have tarried, and when they discover it was with you and your kinsman, I cannot say they will be altogether pleased with me, despite our success at dethroning the Dark Lord."

"I understand, Gimli, and wish you gladness upon your return. Shall you stay for dinner?"

"I think not," Gimli said. "Once you elves begin eating, the singing soon commences, and then there is no stopping you until daybreak. Nay, I shall leave at dusk. I know my way well enough in the dark, and even prefer it for travelling alone."

"I shall be sorry to see you go, my friend. Never would I have thought that you and I could see beyond the differences of our bitter past and become friends, yet we have done it. Come! I wish to show you something before you leave."

"Then I follow with pleasure" Gimli replied, and they strode off together into the woods. They had not gone far until Legolas's intended destination was reached. It was, however, not how he had left it, and the full damage of the wrathful orcs became all too clear. Legolas stood overwhelmed at the base of Belegaladh, Culúril now asleep in his arms. The tree, or what remained of it, was charred black from the fire, and the trunk lay sadly fallen on the earth. Upon the return of spring, no leaves grew on its once mighty boughs. The tree was dead.

"What is this?" Legolas whispered, sinking to his knees.

"This tree," Gimli began, seeing his dear friend's distress, "was not as you left it?"

"Nay," Legolas whispered, placing his hand on the scorched bark of the tree. No life did he feel beneath it. "I heard of a battle, but not of this." Legolas wiped away a tear, leaving a black smudge on his cheek. Culúril moaned in his sleep, and Legolas began to rock the babe, trying desperately to hold back his tears. "This was our favourite place to play, you see, when my brothers and I were children. Whenever we were distressed, even in our adulthood, to this place we would go, climb its sturdy branches, and gain seclusion and insight. I can still envision my mother calling us down from its branches. I cannot I had not been told."

Distraught, Legolas left the remains of Belegaladh, but knew he would have to make peace with the great tree's spirit later when he was alone. He returned to his bedchamber and, finding Mithryn in a deep sleep, placed Culúril back into his crib, and slipped back outside. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest, and there was no comfort to be had. It was at this moment that a pebble struck him painfully in the back of the head. Shocked, he turned around and saw a roguish-looking Haldof standing on the ground, tossing another pebble into the air, catching it playfully. "Do not look so downcast, Brother!" Haldof called out. "Surely I did not harm you."

Legolas smiled weakly, and jumped off the perch, landing sturdily on the mossy earth. "I have seen Belegaladh."

"Ah," Haldof said, throwing the pebble back onto the ground. He knew this was not a time to be teasing his brother. "I told Galamed to tell you last night. 'Nay, Legolas is back!'" Haldof said, mimicking his brother to the best of his ability. "'We should not give ill news on the night of his homecoming!'" He sighed and shook his head. "I am sorry."

"Why did you not tell me? You need not have waited for Galamed."

"In all honesty, Legolas, I knew not how to tell you. I was devastated, myself, when Belegaladh was destroyed. Ask Mithryn. We all grieved at the loss."

"I shouldn't have gone," Legolas said, walking away. "You were right. I should never have left. Too many things happened. Things that I can never take back."

Haldof quickly caught up with Legolas, his eyes searching his brother's distraught face. "You are not speaking of Belegaladh. It is a loss, indeed, for us all, as well as the damage to this forest, and elves who were slain in that great battle, but something else troubles you. What is it, Legolas?"

Legolas stopped walking. "You must promise not to tell Mithryn."

Haldof's heart began to beat fast. Did Legolas know? How could he know? Haldof searched his brain quickly for some clue that he might have given. Now that the time had actually come, Haldof wished to be anywhere but here. "You have my word," Haldof said, nervously.

Taking a deep breath, Legolas said, "We were in Pelargir upon the enemy's ship. The sun was rising, and I heard a strange call overhead. I felt an uncontrollable force beckon me to gaze upwards at the sound. Haldof, they were gulls...from the sea! I felt a wave wash over me as they called overhead. The sea was so near. I could not see it, but nevertheless, the harm was done. The sea has called me."

Haldof walked around a moment, in deep thought. "What do you mean to do?" he asked at last.

"I know not," Legolas replied. "Alas that Galadriel's warning proved true."

"Can you not simply ignore it?" Haldof inquired, ignorant of the call's lure.

Smiling at Haldof's innocence, Legolas said, "You cannot understand, Brother, until it is felt. It is the feeling of never being satisfied. Forever are you searching for the gull's cries and a foreign breeze smelling of salt. However," Legolas said, stiffening, "I am master of my actions. I refuse to allow it to affect me."

"This is where we differ, Brother," Haldof said. "You wish one day to journey over those seas and explore Valinor. I do not. Middle Earth is my home, and I do not believe any gull's cry would alter my heart. I feel for you, but I cannot understand you. And worry not! I shall not tell Mithryn."

When Legolas walked into the bedchamber some hours later, Mithryn was sitting on the window seat, gazing out at the sun-drenched sky. Puffy, white clouds were driven by a high wind, though the forest below sat virtually motionless.

"Legolas!" she called, smiling at his entrance. "You have been gone long."

"I am sorry. It was my hope that you were luxuriating in rest this morning," he said, kissing her temple and taking a seat beside her.

"Were you out with your brothers?"

"Aye, there was much to see. The battle was vicious, it seemed. I wish I could have been here."

Mithryn knew immediately where he had been. The pain in his face, in his voice could not lie. "Nay, you were needed elsewhere."

"I was also needed here," he replied, gazing at her. "Father said Culúril's birth was difficult. By the by, where is he?"

"Celebwen has taken him for his bath."

"Ah," Legolas said, taking her tiny, warm hand. "Love, why did you not tell me the complexities of Culúril's birth?"

"You have only just returned yesterday, and have much to catch up on. I did not want to bombard you with information that bears no relevance now."

"It still bears some relevance."

"Nay, Legolas. Aye, the birth was difficult, but he was born healthy, and I recovered."

"A month's recovery seems unusual. I am concerned."

"There is no need. Truly, my dear," she said, raising her free hand and stroking his worried face, "I am well again, and our son is here and thriving."

It was at that moment that Legolas rose, his face alight with mischief, and said, "I had almost forgotten!"

"Forgotten?" Mithryn repeated. "Forgotten what?"

Legolas strode over to a massive wardrobe, and picking up the doublet worn nearly everyday on his long quest, extracted a slightly limp, half crushed flower, its petals crumpled and bruised. The flower, however, had lost none of its fragrance.

Handing it to his wife, the scent of almonds washed over her, and a smile of amazement spread across her pale face. "Meadowsweet! Where did you find this, for it does not grow in your father's realm."

"At the base of a small cottage in southern Eryn Lasgalan. Your former home, and the dear place where I first saw you."

Mithryn stared down at the withered flower whose scent caused a flood of memories to sweep over her. She thought of the little realm which she had loved and protected all those long years, alone. Never did she tell Legolas, but her heart had broken upon leaving a place which she had called home. "How I missed this scent!" she said, wiping away a small tear. "What a wonderful gift!" she said, pulling him close and kissing him on his soft lips.

"Tis a damaged gift," Legolas said, staring at the wilted flower.

"Nay, it is precious to me. Far more precious than any flower in nearby fields or groves. Look! It still bears a few roots. I will plant it today. Hand me, please, that glass of water. Thank you, my Darling," she said, drawing him close again for another kiss. "Now, tell me everything. Everything you saw there - the flowers, trees, herbs, and every bird and animal."

The summer sun had slowly begun to sink in the sky, and with it, Gimli gathered his belongings and came forth to bid his fare-thee-well. A small crowd had gathered of those who also wished to see their guest off, and amongst them were Legolas, Mithryn, Culúril, Haldof, and Thranduil. Each took their turn in giving Gimli a warm farewell. When Thranduil's turn came, the noble king smiled and said, "Never would I have thought to invite a Dwarf back to my kingdom, but if what Legolas says is true, then you are, indeed, welcome back, Gimli son of Glóin," he said presenting him with rich robes especially tailored for the short Dwarf.

Gimli bowed deeply and said, "You are most kind, and I do assure you, your lordship, Legolas has spoken the truth about me, as I shall of him to my own kith and kin. Too long have our families quarreled over mistakes long passed. I thank you for your generosity in these wonderful gifts, and especially for your warm hospitality and ale."

"Perhaps then," Thranduil responded, "this shall be a new beginning to both our people."

Gimli bowed again, and then turned his attention toward Mithryn who seemed more refreshed. She took his hand and addressed him kindly. "I must thank you most heartily, Master Gimli, for watching over our Legolas when none of us could do so. I am sure you have spared his life many times."

"Milady," Gimli began, "many times has Legolas returned the favour. No thanks are needed."

A servant stepped forward, handing Legolas a satchel full of fragrant breads, dried meats and other elvish delicacies. "Some nourishment for your journey homeward," Legolas explained. "Come, Gimli. I shall walk with you as far as the river."

Walking toward a darkened eastern sky, neither Legolas nor Gimli spoke a word until the stars began to reveal themselves in the velvety heavens. "Shall we ever meet again, do you think?" Legolas said at last, breaking the silence.

"I should sincerely hope so!" Gimli bellowed, his voice echoing along the open, rolling hillside. "A promise made is a promise kept by a Dwarf."

"As is a promise made by an Elf."

"Then there you have it! Speak not to me of never seeing one another again! We must return to Fangorn, remember? Our adventures together have not ended yet, I think."

"No, I am sure you are right," Legolas replied, the sound of rushing water coming nearer. A bridge soon came into view, and across it, far into the distance, appeared the lights of the busy town of Esgaroth, ruled and dwelled by Men. This bridge is where the two friends stopped to say their final goodbye.

"Take care of yourself, Elf," Gimli said.

"And you, yourself, Dwarf."

"I do hope that I can repay your graciousness with your visit to my own home. What say you? You still have not experienced the hospitality of the Dwarves! You cannot know culinary perfection until you have dined at our tables."

Legolas smiled. "It is another promise gladly given. Shall I be the first to write?"

"Aye," Gimli said. "Write to me how Mithryn fares, and how tall that little lad of yours grows. I am not a very faithful correspondent, but with you I shall try to make an exception. Farewell, my friend," he said, warmly grasping Legolas's outstretched forearm.

"Farewell," Legolas said, and watched the Dwarf turn and walk across the bridge. A bright moon shone down on the water and shimmered as the river lapped against the stone bridge. "'Tis a fine night for travel," he thought. "May Elbereth go with thee, my friend." When Gimli could be seen no more, Legolas turned and made his way back towards his home where Mithryn kept a silent vigil for his return.

**Author's Note:** _Please review and let me know what you think!_


	39. Chapter XXXVIII A Question Answered

**CHAPTER 39**

**A QUESTION ANSWERED**

The summer of Legolas's return had faded and fall had come. Winter followed briskly, and then another spring and summer. In fact, nearly two years had passed since Legolas's return from the Great War, as it had become known, and in those two years, both much and little had occurred. What had occurred in daily life seemed of little importance compared to the trials surrounding the destruction of the Ring of Power, but life returned to normal in Eryn Lasgalen. Culúril grew, and Mithryn recovered, only to weaken a few months later. A short time afterward she improved again and then grew ill once more. Such was her life during these two years, and Legolas wondered often at this, but said naught, for none seemed able to answer his questions.

Despite her inconstant health, all were happy in Thranduil's kingdom as no enemy lay in wait now, and no threats of attack did they fear. Soldiers still guarded their borders as vigilantly as ever, but they were more open and hospitable to wandering travellers who were passing by, or perhaps had lost their way.

Legolas often sat recollecting his many adventures and, as time passed, began to forget how many times his life could have been forfeit. However, he never forgot, in all his years, the little boy soldier who died at Helm's Deep, or the kindness of the old man on the parapet.

Little contact had he had with the remaining Fellowship, but a few letters were sent and replies received. Only once had he ventured to Lonely Mountain with Haldof and had visited with the Dwarves. Much had Gimli done to prepare his kindred for peace with the elves. Haldof had been less thrilled by the experience than his brother, but both had enjoyed the Dwarves hospitality, and returned home after a weeks venture with rich gifts of precious stones from the mines and stories for the summer campfires.

No other friend from the Fellowship had he seen until one day, an old familiar comrade appeared and was granted entrance without an escort. He approached the palace, smiling, as Elves greeted him with kind words of welcome in their usual, dignified manner.

"Mithrandir!" Galamed called upon seeing his old friend, and almost knocked him over with an enthusiastic embrace. "I had not known you were to visit."

"That would be my mistake, I am afraid, as I had not written you or your father," the wizard said, jovially.

"Aye. You have always come and gone as you pleased. My father is in and will be so pleased to see you," Galamed said, gesturing towards the palace. "I am sorry I cannot accompany you. Anardil, my wife, is expecting me, and I am overly late already, you see."

"Wife?" Gandalf said, a twinkle in his eye.

"Aye," Galamed said, blushing.

"Things have changed. Congratulations and think naught of it, Galamed. Pray, go to your wife. It is not a wise elf who keeps his wife waiting for long and I would not recommend it. I must see your father. Is he in his study?"

"Aye, I have just come from there."

"Thank you," Gandalf replied. "I know the way," and began to walk toward the palace doors when a most curious sight met his gaze. An elf-child, no more than two years of age, had marched quickly out of the doorway, down the path, and was now dangerously close to the rushing stream that meandered through the heart of the village. Without hesitation, Gandalf dashed over and snatched up the child. "Curious..." Gandalf said, examining the child's strawberry coloured hair.

A panicked Legolas shot past the threshold, stropped suddenly and sighed with relief upon seeing Culúril in none other than Mithrandir's arms! "Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "I had not known you were to come here! It is wonderful to see you again, my old friend," he said, embracing the old wizard.

"As it is good to see you, young Legolas. And this little one had fled from you I gather?" Gandalf asked, handing Culúril to him.

"He is the fastest elf on two legs, I declare! I cannot turn my back for even a moment, and my brothers are of little help. They long for the time when he is old enough to learn to shoot."

"He is yours, then?" Gandalf inquired.

"Aye," Legolas replied, beaming with pride. "Does he not have my likeness?"

"He does indeed," Gandalf began, "however, his hair...is not exactly your shade..."

"He gets it from his mother," Legolas explained.

"Curious colour for an elf-maiden."

"Oh, she is no elf-maiden. Have you never met Mithryn, my wife?" Gandalf's breath caught in his chest, and he weakly shook his head. "No, perhaps not," Legolas continued. "She did not come here until after your last visit, I believe. You were questioning Gollum at that time; do you recall? I must say, considering how things developed, it is perhaps best that he escaped, do you not think so? However, I forget myself. Pray allow me to introduce Mithryn to you. Much have I spoken of you to her; she has been most anxious to meet you. I shall fetch her. Would you mind holding Culúril for a moment?"

"Not at all," Gandalf said as Legolas sprinted off. As he waited, Gandalf stared even more intently into the face of the beaming child. "It is not possible..."

Two minutes passed; he and Culúril waited until a door closed, and Gandalf stood in amazement at what he saw before him. Leading her by the arm, Legolas walked with Mithryn down the tall spiral staircase. While Legolas chatted merrily away about a surprise, Mithryn's eyes and smiling face never left his.

All sound drained from Gandalf's ears, and naught did he see but her. Time slowed as if in a illusion, yet he could not tear his eyes away from the lady by Legolas's side. "It cannot be..." Gandalf whispered.

"My old friend," Legolas said when their feet had at last touched earth, "this is..." but he was unable to finish the sentence, for as Mithryn's eyes reached the old wizard, she gasped and froze as if incapable of movement.

"Mithryn?" Gandalf whispered, unable to believe it himself.

Legolas took Culúril into his arms and gazed, bewildered, back and forth from Mithryn to Gandalf.

Heart aching, and feeling as though she were in a dream, Mithryn stared at the unbelievable vision before her. It could not be real! She shook her head in an attempt to recall herself to reality. There was something in his clear, blue eyes, however, that gave her peace. At last, she was able to breathe again and said, "Papa?"

Closing his eyes, Gandalf stepped forward and wrapped Mithryn in a warm embrace, holding her close, and touching her soft, curly hair.

"I thought you dead," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "How is it you can be alive?"

"And you, my daughter," he replied, holding her weeping face in his large hands. "How can this be?" His mind raced back over details of that devastating time more than eighty years ago. "You have grown into such a lovely woman. You look like your mother."

A great sob escaped Mithryn, and feeling like a child once more, she lay her head on his chest, and could no longer contain her feelings of joy and despair. She thought of those long, lonely years without him, years spent alone in frightened solitude. Years never to return.

Culúril began to squirm in Legolas's grasp and, desperately wanting comfort from his mommy, called to her, unsure of what was making her so upset. Laughing through her tears, Mithryn picked up her son and said what she had, previously, thought impossible. "Culúril, this is your grandfather."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Culúril," Gandalf said, holding out his massive hand.

Suddenly shy, Culúril turned and nuzzled into the safety of his mother's shoulder. Laughing merrily, Legolas, Mithryn and Gandalf all stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do next. "Perhaps you would like a moment to yourselves?" Legolas suggested. "I am certain there is much for you both to speak of."

Mithryn and Gandalf both nodded their heads to the idea, and taking Culúril in his arms, Legolas made his way back to the palace to prepare his father for this most unexpected meeting.

Mithryn led her father to a low, cascading waterfall - her favourite place to sit outdoors. They walked in silence, and now, sitting upon mossy boulders, contemplated each other intently.

"You have changed," Mithryn said at last.

Gandalf smiled at this. "Do I seem older to you?"

Nodding, Mithryn said, "Your white hair. It was grey before." Mithryn's words did not come without effort. He seemed almost a stranger to her, and though he lived within her memories, they were from so long ago. "Have the years been kind to you?"

"They have not been without trials. I accompanied Legolas on much of his journey. Did you know this?"

"He spoke of an old wizard, and even mentioned your name, but I had not supposed it was you! You were only remembered to me as Papa, and not Mithrandir, the wizard. I am glad it was you, however. You kept him safe."

"As best I could, but I could not always be present. Legolas is an exceptional warrior, Mithryn. He needed none of my keeping." A few moments passed again in silence. Gandalf worried that, perhaps, too much time had passed between them. She was but a child when the village had been destroyed. That thought brought about another that he had not considered before. "Where have you been all this time? Who has taken care of you, my child?"

Mithryn told him of how her life had fared after he had seen her last. She spoke of the battle, the carnage, and of her escape. A few tears were shed by both, and at the end of her reflections, Gandalf, with sorrowful eyes, reached over and drew her close, just as he had always done when she was very young and had awoken from a bad dream. "My poor child," he said, stroking her head. "All were gone when I came back to our village. I could not find any remains, and assumed the worst. It was easy to decipher who attacked our village. The orcs left little to doubt. When naught could be found, I had not supposed that you could possibly have survived the devastation. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Why do you require forgiveness, Father? It is not your doing that our lives have turned out thus. And now, you have found me at last. We can begin anew."

Gandalf sat silent, wondering. He could not be certain, and could never be certain if he, indeed, were to blame for the attack on the village. However, as it was so long ago, he felt not the need to injure his dear little girl any further.

Hearing voices within his father's study, Legolas tapped lightly on the door and was bid enter. Gandalf and Thranduil sat conversing at the large table; plates of fruit, bread and cheeses had been placed temptingly before them. Thranduil, pouring his son a drink of wine, said, "Is she resting, Legolas?"

"Aye, she has gone to our bedchamber," Legolas replied, taking the heavy goblet and sitting beside Gandalf. "She has had a most surprising and exhausting day."

"Inside," Gandalf began, "my brain still shouts that it cannot be true! My little daughter...alive after all this time..."

"If you'll forgive me, Mithrandir," Thranduil said, "there is something that plagues me. I had not known that you were ever married."

"I had told only one other of my marriage with Mithryn's mother," Gandalf said, his brow darkening anxiously.

"Saruman?" Legolas asked.

"Elrond," Gandalf corrected. "It was Saruman that I feared knowing. I knew not why at the time, but something always made me hold back certain knowledge from him. And, considering how he turned forces, I'd say that I'm rather proud that I did."

"But Mithrandir," Thranduil said, "there remains something unanswered. How is it you come to be married with a child? Forgive me, but though your appearance would give one pause for thought, I had not thought you mortal."

Gandalf smiled his roguish smile and replied, "How long have you known me, friend?"

"Nearly three hundred years, I would gather," Thranduil replied.

Gandalf thought quietly a moment before saying, "I see no harm in telling you now. I was one of five in my Order. Saruman, the wisest of us all, was the head of this Order. We were sent to contest the dominating power of Sauron three hundred years ago."

"Sent?" Legolas inquired. "From where?"

"We were sent from Valinor. Only two were told of it - Galadriel, and Elrond."

Thranduil and Legolas stared at Gandalf in entranced captivation. "Valinor?!" Legolas repeated, in awe.

"You are one of the Istari?" Thranduil asked, expectantly. Gandalf nodded, and Thranduil continued. "I have heard of the Istari. Very little, but only something Elrond once said to me. It seemed strange at the time, and I have wondered at it since, but never inquired again as to his meaning."

"What did he say?" Legolas asked, intrigued.

Smiling, Thranduil said, "'From far do they come, and much do they not say.' But this still does not explain, Gandalf, how you fathered Mithryn."

"To come here," Gandalf explained, "we took on human form, and in so doing, embraced all that it means to be Man. They are a curious race, as I'm sure you agree. Such emotions, and irrational thinking as to be found in no other race! Never in my long life, and, I do assure you, it is even older than yours, my old friend, had I never truly felt the feeling of love as a mortal experiences it. In coming here, I had embraced all that I could. I had learned to love its varied peoples, and diverse landscapes. Much had I found to love in the crested mountains, in the Elven forests, as well as in the tiny Hobbit holes of the Shire.

"However, with the good comes, also, the bad. As I had welcomed Middle Earth's people and customs with open arms, Saruman had not. Although I had not known it at the time, Saruman's mind had been slowly turning black with greed and contempt for all whom he felt were inferior beings. I knew a gulf had separated us, though I failed to grasp how far and how deep.

"Through my many wanderings, I had journeyed to the Gladden Fields. Aye, I had been there before, several times in the span of a hundred years. I had reason to believe Isildur had met his end there, and perhaps, the One Ring could still be there. I was correct in assuming such, yet, what I had not known was that the Ring had already long been taken by the wryly hands of Gollum who was now lurking in the Misty Mountains. Although, not knowing this, I turned to the Gladden Fields once more to scour for that which was most vital to peace in Middle Earth. What I had found there, however, was something most unexpected. It was then that I first met Morag."

"Mithryn's mother?" Legolas asked.

"Aye," Gandalf said, smiling sadly as he remembered her. "She was unlike any I had ever before known. Never having married and believing herself past the age of marrying, she had succumbed to a quiet life, caring for others. She was a great healer among her people, and oft did they look to her for wisdom. Is it fair to say that I fell in love with her at the first moment? I believe so."

"Then what happened?" Thranduil asked.

"We married, and I feared to tell any, but confessed it only to Elrond. I knew not why for certain, but kept this secret as I thought it dangerous for such information to fall into the hands of the Saruman. Morag's kith and kin lived in that land, and she disliked the idea of being separated from them. Though I loved her greatly, I knew my mission must come first, and therefore, I continued my wanderings and searched for many years. It was not long before we were blessed with the birth of a daughter whom Morag called after my Elvish name. Suddenly I experienced new joys and worries completely unknown to me before. My obligations outweighed my own personal wishes to remain at their side, however, and so, I wandered far and wide, keeping to my mission. It was at such a time that our village was attacked by Orcs, and upon my return some months later, I had found the village destroyed, and believed all who were in it, slain. The destruction was so complete that no one could have survived...or so I thought."

"That is why you never searched for her..." Legolas said.

"Aye," Gandalf said, guilt in his voice. "I reproach myself severely for this error, but even the most harshest of reprimands and the strongest of wishes cannot reverse time. I can only be thankful that I have had the opportunity to see her again. Though, I fear, time is still against us."

"Of what do you mean?" Thranduil asked.

"I speak as to the reason for my visit," Gandalf replied, eyes full of sorrow. "I have come to say farewell. My mission has been fulfilled. The time has come for me to return to Valinor."

Thranduil and Legolas sat aghast, and exchanged looks expressing their feelings. Legolas spoke but his voice was weak with disbelief. "You mean to leave? Now?"

"But, think of Mithryn!" Thranduil said to Gandalf. "You have only just found her! And what of tiny Culúril whom you and I share as grandfathers. You do not wish to watch him grow or to guide him in his development?"

Watching Gandalf, Legolas regretted his words, as did Thranduil. From the pained expression on the old Wizard's face, it was obvious that this decision had been far from easy. "A few days I have set aside to spend with your folk, Thranduil, but no more can I spare. The boat waits for none, and on the twenty-ninth of this month it sails, and with it I am bound to go. I will be travelling with all the Bearers of the Ring, save one, as well as Elrond and Galadriel. I assure you, could I stay and spend a thousand years with Mithryn and Culúril, I would. I have already said my farewells to the noble King Elessar, as well as Gimli. And, that reminds me, young Legolas," he said, reaching into the deep folds of his white robes and withdrawing two rolls of parchment, "I had almost forgotten that I play message bearer. They each asked me to give you these."

Legolas took the scrolls and was glad to have news of his friends, yet was saddened at the thought of losing another.

Legolas opened his bedchamber door, the two sealed scrolls tucked in his doublet. "You are still awake. You should rest, you know," he said, striding towards her as she sat by the window watching Culúril play on the floor.

"I could not sleep," she said, kissing him. "Too much has happened. My brain would not cease thinking." She gazed thoughtfully at him a moment before saying, "How long does he mean to stay?"

"A few days. Perhaps a week. Not long, in any case."

Smiling slightly cynically, she said, "I had thought as much. Forever did he have other places to be, or other people to speak to. I should not be surprised now that it is the same after all these years."

Legolas's heart broke listening to her speak thus. So strong and unaffected had she tried to appear, but to him, he could still see the embittered child who had felt abandoned and unloved.

"Say not so, Mithryn, for he is hurt beyond your understanding. He wishes he could stay, but..."

Unwilling to forgive, she interrupted, saying, "Yes, I am sure you are correct, dearest. Pray," attempting to change the subject, "what are those in your doublet?"

Her ruse worked, though Legolas disliked dropping the subject. He could see Mithryn was unwilling to converse the matter any further, however. "They are letters," he began, taking out the curled scrolls, "from Gimli and Aragorn. Do you wish to hear them?"

"Aye," Mithryn said as he uncurled one of the scrolls.

"Dear Legolas," he began. "I hope all is well with you and your family. Such glad tidings is it my privilege to write to you, and tell you of the birth of my son."

"A child!" Mithryn exclaimed. "What good fortune, indeed! May their next be a princess."

Legolas smiled, and continued reading the letter aloud. "Lady Undómiel and I have named him Eldarion, and it is with great anticipation that we look forward to introducing him to you upon your long awaited arrival, if your lord grants it. I trust you have not forgotten your promise to me. I bid you now farewell, and await your response. Aragorn."

"He expects a reply. What shall you write to him?" Mithryn inquired.

"I have been reluctant to speak of my promise to Father. As you know, he wishes the rulership of Mirkwood to pass to me upon his departure into the west."

Not finding any words of wisdom to offer, Mithryn simply suggested, "Perhaps Gimli's letter will provide some advice."

Cracking open the seal, Legolas unfurled the sheet, and cleared his throat. "My friend, what news is this I hear of the birth of Aragorn and Lady Arwen's son? Let us pray the child has the likeness of his mother. What say you? Is it not time to venture forth and carry out what we long ago promised? My legs are stiff, and my hands grow feeble. I long for adventure! Awaiting your ever tardy reply, Gimli."

"Well? What do you think?" Mithryn asked, trying to read Legolas's thoughtful face. "What are we to do?"

"I shall tell Father when the time is right."

Several days passed, and Gandalf remained. Mithryn, he felt, remained elusive and withdrawn, and he grew saddened. "Why had I given up so easily?" thought he. "I have brought this upon myself, and can hold no blame against her for not forgiving me. A frightened child alone in the world, and I did not even search for her."

When at last the time came to make his departure, every elf in the kingdom came to offer their good wishes for his return to his homeland. "Fare-thee-well, my old friend," Thranduil said. "Much have you done for us, and all Middle Earth, and not enough can we do to thank you. On your journey homeward, remember kindly those you leave behind, and those who will soon follow."

"Kind words that are kindly felt, Thranduil," Gandalf replied. "Do you speak of yourself when talking of journeying homeward? I had not thought you would leave just yet."

"I do speak for myself, for long have I dwelt in this wood. My beloved wife waits for me across the sea, and I shall follow you anon. Please bid her to be patient when you see her."

"I shall," Gandalf replied, "and look forward to greeting you upon your arrival, my old friend. I am thankful that our goodbye will not be for long." He moved onwards down the line and stopped at Legolas who had his arms full with Culúril. "Little Culúril, how I shall miss watching you grow, and teaching you all of life's mysteries. How I shall miss watching you learn and explore all that you have to offer this great world. Forever will you be in my thoughts, little one, and forever in my heart."

He bent down and kissed his grandchild on his downy strawberry hair, and moved once more to Mithryn. She stared at him, tearless and stone faced. Gandalf, however, was not hurt by her coldness. "Alas that this is goodbye for us, my child. Alas for our past, and that it was so hard on us both. I hope you will not hold it against me forever. Would I change all that I have done wrong, I would do so willingly and with a full heart." He placed his hand gently on her head, stroking her long, soft curls. "Forever will you be my little girl."

Though still refusing to forgive him, Mithryn could not help reaching out and drawing her father close in a tight embrace. So few opportunities did she have in the past, and now, this her last chance, she could not allow him to leave without a final goodbye. "I love you, Papa," she whispered.

Galamed and Tarnil stood a distance back, watching the scene. Speaking so only Tarnil could hear, Galamed said, "It all makes sense now, does it not? Mithryn's powers..."

"Aye," Tarnil agreed in an equally hushed voice. "Though, something troubles me."

"What?"

"Mithrandir leaves his daughter, never to return, never to see her again. Do you suppose Father told him of her condition?"

Galamed watched closely father and daughter saying their last few words together. "Nay," he said, decidedly. "He does not know."

Climbing upon his horse, Shadowfax, Gandalf gave one last long gaze at his daughter and grandchild, imprinting upon his memory their faces for all of time, before turning with lightening speed, and riding away. He cried tears of regret for hours upon that long, lonely ride to Rivendell and his road west.

**Author's Note:** _Please kindly review!_


	40. Chapter XL The New King

**CHAPTER 40**

**THE NEW KING**

Winter came once more to the forest. Crisp, chilly nights were repelled with cozy fires, steaming hot soups, mulled wine, and merry company. Mithryn's health had slowly declined since her father's passing to the Undying Lands, but she had revived as of late when the sun peaked beyond the snow-filled clouds and lit up the barren woodland.

The forest was even more barren than usual in recent months as more and more elves followed their hearts and travelled west. Hundreds had now departed, and Thranduil's tables grew less and less occupied.

Thranduil had deliberated long, and when his decision had been made, he called his sons to him. They met in the warm sanctity of his private study; dried fruits, nuts and the finest wine were already set out before them. The four brothers sat down attentively. Ignoring the fare, they concentrated on their father.

"Well?" Haldof asked after a long silence. "We did not come merely to stare at you, Father. What is it you wish to discuss?"

Thranduil chuckled quietly to himself. Haldof, he believed, could always be relied upon to break any silence. "I have called you forth, my sons, to tell you of my decision. I am leaving."

"Leaving?" Galamed repeated incredulously. "When?"

"Upon the next ship sailing from the Grey Havens," the king replied, his eyes turning toward Legolas. "And you, my son, will be king of this realm."

Legolas's eyes turned away, and fixed themselves on the fire. He could not hide what he felt in his heart, and his attitude puzzled Thranduil.

"Uh...father..." Haldof said, again breaking the silence, but this time more softly, "I am certain Legolas desires nothing more than to obey your wishes and follow in your footsteps as king of Eryn Lasgalan. However..." he said, exchanging uncertain glances with Legolas, "King Elessar has most graciously invited him to reside in Ithilien. All the remaining members of the Fellowship have been invited."

A crease appeared betwixt Thranduil's brows. "Is this true, Legolas?"

Taking a deep breath, Legolas turned and confessed his secret. "Aye, Father. The land of Ithilien has long been ravaged and beaten by the fists of Mordor, and much is there to do. With your permission, I would take a host of Elves wishing to help, and we would stay there repairing, to the best of our ability, all that Sauron had destroyed in that once-fair land. Our people possess skills, unknown to Men, in regenerating the lands, rivers and forests. I feel strongly that we can be of much use before all of our kind disappear from Middle Earth forever."

"But, I fear I do not understand," Thranduil said. "You do not wish, then, to become king? As first born, rulership rightfully is yours, but as is also your right, you may pass it to one of your brothers."

"That is what I wish," Legolas said softly.

"But why have you never spoken of this to me?" Thranduil asked. "And when did Aragorn propose this venture? In his last letter?"

"Nay, Father," Legolas said, confessing all. "Prior to my return home from the Great War, we saw that much work was needed to undo the evil that was done there. I witnessed with mine own eyes the putrid diseases of the waters, the soil, all things that grew, and even the air...my heart wept. Before I leave this earth, I should like to do my part in restoring it to its natural health and beauty."

Thranduil stared at his son with an expression that seemed to reveal all and nothing at the same time. "I knew of your promise," he said at length. "In fact, I have known of it since Mithrandir's last visit. Will you never learn, my sons? Am I really so fearsome that you need hide things from me?"

"Nay," Legolas began, his heart pounding, "it was only that I did not wish to disappoint. I knew you wished me to be king."

"Legolas, I do assure you," Thranduil said, "that I only wish for your happiness. If Ithilien is where your heart bids you go, then go you must. Never would I desire you to travel through life pleasing only me and not yourself. Go to Ithilien with your wife and child and be happy. Make your home among Men and represent us well. Fear naught from me. You have my blessing."

Legolas was too humbled for words.

Thranduil then turned to Haldof. "I suppose, Haldof, that the throne is now yours. Is it what you wish?"

"If we are being honest, Father, it is not," Haldof said with a smile. "It is likely I would chafe under the restrictions of function and obligation as if shackled and burdened. This you know of me, Father. I fear I would make a very poor king."

Thranduil sighed, and blinked. "Very well. Tarnil?"

Shaking his head, Tarnil said, "Long have I wished to journey across the sea. The forest is no longer my home. My heart drives me with a thirst as if I have already witnessed the great sea. I go with you, Father, on this final path."

"Is there none of you who wish to rule after me?" Thranduil said, exasperated.

Without a word, Galamed humbly raised his hand. Tarnil turned to him, astonished. Long had he waited for Galamed, as they had agreed, as boys, to journey across the sea together.

"Is it your will, Galamed," Thranduil asked, "or do you merely wish to please me?"

"Father," Galamed began softly, "I am not yet ready to leave our home, nor is Anardil. Our people require a leader. If I stay, I would stay as king with honour."

"So be it." Thranduil smiled despite himself. "You shall make an excellent king, my son." He sighed and rubbed his aching head. He had not supposed his sons would be so difficult. "Well, Haldof, what are your plans? Legolas goes to Ithilien, Tarnil travels with me, and Galamed shall rule. What is it you desire to do?"

"Middle Earth is my home, and where I mean to remain," Haldof said, fervently.

"For how long?" Tarnil enquired.

Haldof shrugged his strong shoulders. "Until there is no day. I know not. All I do know," he continued, more seriously, "is that my heart does not bid me leave."

"Then I can expect a lengthy interval before our next meeting," Thranduil said. "It is your choice, my son, and, therefore, I shall not counsel you on it. However, you have not yet answered my question. What is it you wish to do?"

"With Legolas's permission," Haldof said, turning towards his older brother, "I wish to travel to Ithilien with his contingent and see more of Middle Earth. He has spoken at length of that land, its inhabitants, and their peculiar ways, and it intrigues me greatly. There is much to learn, much to explore that calls my restless spirit."

"You need not my permission," Legolas said, smiling. "T'would be an honour if you would journey onwards with us."

Haldof returned his brother's warm smile, and Thranduil shook his head. "Very well. It is then settled." He rose and held high his heavy, silver goblet. "I make a salute, my sons, to our noble family from our predecessors to our most recent addition. Wherever you go, and in whatever adventures you find yourselves, kindly think of your family, and let us all hope that we shall be reunited again anon.

In great spirits, the four sons rose, goblets held high, and hailed their father and king before drinking down the wine.

Thranduil did not delay in announcing to his people his decision to sail forth to the Undying Lands. He did not exclude the information that Galamed would succeed him, nor of Legolas's decision to remove to Ithilien and help rebuild. All elves carefully considered each option presented to them; some chose to remain under Galamed's rule, others chose the adventurous path to Gondor, and the remaining, which were, indeed, many, wished to follow King Thranduil across the sea.

Weeks passed in a fierce but happy flurry of excitement and preparation. Even Elves travelling to Ithilien packed their belongings as their departure time followed soon after the king and his cortege. When the day had at last arrived for Thranduil and those travelling with him to depart, every elf in the kingdom congregated outside the great, mountain palace as silvery winter stars glistened overhead. All of those departing carried a special lantern to guide them on their way. The assembly of hundreds of dim, ghostly lamps cast a festive warmth to the otherwise chilly night.

"The time has come for many farewells," Thranduil said, "though, it is hoped, our partings will soon be followed by cheers of welcome when next we all shall meet. For those remaining here upon this earth, I shall miss each of you, and hope that your time here is happy and fruitful." Thranduil turned to his three sons, Legolas, Galamed, and Haldof, who were each remaining behind. My sons, I shall miss you more than words can adequately express. May Eärendil keep you safe until our next meeting." Reaching atop of his head, Thranduil gingerly removed a silvery laced crown. "Galamed, pray come forth." Galamed stepped forward and knelt in front of this father, bowing his head. "The king of the realm no more am I. As you have agreed to take on all the responsibilities of government, and the nurture and care of our people, as well as this sacred forest, I hereby pass this kingdom to you, my son Galamed," Thranduil said placing the glittering crown upon his son's golden head. "Rise up and be recognized."

King Galamed rose and his proud father backed away. All in attendance bowed respectfully and proclaimed their allegiance to their new king.

With the ceremonies over, the time for departing became real. Elves strolled around, each bidding their personal farewells as tears and embraces were shared and deeply felt. Tarnil approached his new king. "My felicitations, Brother. I believe you will make a very fine king. How I wish that I could but see it."

Galamed attempted once more to beseech his brother to remain but a little longer. "Why do you not stay a while longer, Tarnil? Our home will not be the same without you."

"You will have Legolas and Haldof," Tarnil replied.

"They are off to Ithilien in a few days as well you know. Come, cannot you delay this decision of yours?"

Tarnil smiled, but shook his head sadly. "I had waited long for you, Galamed, but you have chosen a different path from me. However, the years that I have remained here are cherished, and I do not regret them. I know where I belong, and it is not here. I am sorry. Until we next meet..." Tarnil said, embracing his brother, and then embracing Anardil at his side. "You make a truly lovely queen, sister. Would that our mother could see the pair you make."

Thranduil, meanwhile, had anchored himself with Culúril in Legolas and Mithryn's company. "My little grandson," he said to the child wrapped in robes of thick fur and soft, rich silk, "a farewell must there be, but it shall not be forever. Forever is a very long time, I do assure you." He placed a tender hand on the child's head and looked deep into his blue eyes. "May you remember."

Turning his attention to Legolas and Mithryn, Thranduil said, "And when do you leave, my children?"

"In a few days time," Legolas replied. "The dwarves are coming, and will rest one night here before we all depart west."

"Very well," Thranduil said, kissing his grandson one final time and handing him back to Legolas. "Pray guard that little one, as well as his mother," he said, taking Mithryn's tiny, cold hands in his. "You must take care, my dear. I know that we shall not meet again. I would not wish to darken this farewell, but it seems fruitless to mask the truth from you."

"No need to fear what my destiny entails, my lord," she replied, smiling. "None know more than I. Thank you so much for all of your kindnesses throughout the years. You have been like a father to me when I had none." Leaning over, she kissed him; her cold face brushing lightly against his warm cheek.

"As you have been a daughter to me," he replied.

When, at last, all the farewells had been said, the entire company rose up in song, singing sweetly and clearly of times past and future meetings. Slowly, the group trailed out, some travelling by foot, others on horseback, carrying their lanterns high as they guided their way through the inky darkness. Those remaining behind, stayed in the clearing until neither singing, nor lamp-light could be heard or seen any more, and they were gone.

**Author's Note:** _Kindly review, please!_


	41. Chapter XLI Ithilien

**CHAPTER 41**

**ITHILIEN  
**

In the days that passed after King Thranduil's departure, the remaining Elves fell back into a quiet existence under King Galamed's rule. The combination of his magnanimous and jovial nature made him easily approachable and all enjoyed being led by him. More proud than any was Legolas. Upon seeing his youngest brother and king talking with his people, bequeathing requests and solving their problems judiciously, he could not help but think that the right son was now king.

There was little time for lounging, however, for those who meant to move onward to Ithilien. Last minute preparations had to be made and, when completed, all waited patiently for the Dwarves' arrival from Lonely Mountain.

King Galamed had ordered a lookout and, after a few days, word was sent swiftly that their visitors had arrived. The shrill, clear call of the iavin shot through the chilly air of the forest, and all present turned and made their way to the palace to greet their guests for this historic event.

Gazing somewhat warily about them, a band of twenty-two Dwarves tentatively followed their escort to the palace. Legolas waited there with Mithryn by his side and Culúril in his arms. Gimli led the way for the Dwarves, and nodded haughtily at Elves as he passed.

"Dear friends," Galamed said when all had gathered near, "we welcome you to our home and are glad, indeed, of your coming. This marks a monumental milestone for both our people. Never before have Dwarves and Elves shared both land and home, and I am exceedingly fortunate to bear witness to it."

Gimli bowed deeply, and the rest of the Dwarves quickly followed his example. They had remembered how two princes of Mirkwood had shown the same respect to their king.

"Kind words," Gimli said, rising, "and they are deeply felt. May your life be merry, your mine plentiful, your stomach full, and your beard long!"

Not quite knowing how to take such a greeting, Galamed merely bowed his head, while Legolas suppressed a giggle.

The elves disbursed and gathered round their guests, looking curiously at their raiment, their beards, their weapons and adornments. Tentative and friendly chatter began, and Legolas and Mithryn approached a disgruntled Gimli who was attempting to wade through a sea of tall legs and velvet robes.

"Gimli, my old friend!" Legolas exclaimed and embraced him warmly with his one free arm.

"There you are! One cannot see through so much silk and finery! I am much regretting now not drinking that Ent drought that Treebeard offered me. And, hello there, wee elf!" Gimli said as Legolas knelt down to show Gimli Culúril.

"Beed!" the infant exclaimed excitedly, and promptly reached out and pulled Gimli's rust-coloured beard. The dwarf let out a cry, and Culúril a shriek of joy at this new discovery.

"Culúril, you mustn't!" Legolas said, horrified, removing the child's small hand from Gimli's coarse beard. "I am sorry, Gimli."

"Not at all. It is no wonder. It is not oft that he sees a beard as fine as this, is it?" Gimli said.

"Nay," Mithryn said, speaking up at last. "Not since my father's visit, that is."

Gimli nodded, and Legolas glanced at her, surprised. Not once had she mentioned her father since his passing to the Undying Lands.

"How wonderful to see you again, Gimli," she continued and embraced him as well.

"Milady, what must you think of me? An ungrateful guest I should be if I came bereft of gifts in the face of my dear friend's wife!" Gimli pulled a small, velvety pouch from his doublet and handed it to her, his face reddening all the while.

Smiling, she shook her head, "This was entirely unnecessary, dear friend. There is no cause to give me gifts."

"Every cause!" Gimli argued. "Having no wife of mine own, this trinket would have gone entirely to waste, for I cannot wear it. Red does not become me."

Mithryn poured the contents of the purse into her hand and a shimmering ruby necklace slid out. Three large, magnificent rubies, round with delicate silver leaves, graced a fine woven chain. Mithryn was speechless for a moment, but the enthralled look upon her face delighted him at no end.

Legolas, however, appeared not as pleased. "Gimli, you shall make me look bad to Mithryn, and then, I daresay, she shall leave me for a dwarf!"

Ignoring Legolas's comment, however, Mithryn merely said, "This is a great deal too fine for me, Master Gimli. Surely there is a dwarf lady whom this would better suit?"

"Nay!" Gimli said, raising his hand. "There is no such lady, and I wish you to have it. Once a gift is given, milady, 'tis plain rude to refuse! Nay, there is no lady that holds my heart...except..."

Gimli clutched at something hidden neath his doublet, and near his heart. Grunting, and shaking off his memories, he said, "Enough of such talk! Keep it lady, and make a dwarf happy! Now, Legolas, shall we go and talk? It has been long, indeed, since our old discourses and you must explain to me the plans ahead."

"Very well!" Legolas said, jovially. "Mithryn, would you take him?"

Legolas held Culúril out to her, but the child was immediately picked up by his uncle Haldof. "Nay, I'll take him, Legolas. Mithryn looks a trifle tired."

It was not until then that Legolas noticed how very worn Mithryn did appear. Though her hair was neatly braided and her dress tidy, her eyes looked heavy and her skin pale. "Aye, you do appear strained. Did you not sleep well again last night, love?"

Disliking all this attention to her state of health, Mithryn merely smiled weakly, and said, "Perhaps a little. I think I shall retire before the festivities tonight. Until later, Master Gimli, and thank you once more for this most beautiful and generous gift." She bent down and kissed him on his blushing cheek, and then turned away and walked gingerly back to her bedchamber.

"Ho! You are still here, I see," Gimli remarked to Haldof. "Not gone off to the Undying Lands, too?"

"Not I, Master Gimli," Haldof replied, smiling roguishly. "I go with you to Ithilien."

Gimli, it appeared, had not previously thought of this eventuality and said dryly, "What good fortune. Come, Legolas! Let us commiserate on this unfortunate circumstance!"

Haldof and Legolas both let out hearty laughs. Legolas strolled away with Gimli to find a quiet spot where they might sit and converse about the journey before them. They had not much time before the cool, grey day slipped into a cold, wintery night complete with snow. All then gathered eagerly in the great hall for dinner, song and stories. The Dwarven guests observed with fascinated ears and eyes all this foreign merrymaking, but soon their heads began to droop from the music, gaiety and infinite barrels of ale. Legolas found a seat beside Gimli who was thoroughly enjoying the elderberry wine.

"Are you as anxious as me to begin work in Ithilien?" Gimli exclaimed excitedly, rubbing his hands together. "If I recall the shabby stonework correctly, much is there to do!"

"And there is much planting to do, much evil to undo, and much to restore. We must do what we can, dear friend, to make Aragorn's realm as beautiful as legend tells us it once was."

Gimli stared skeptically at Legolas for a moment before saying, "Are you sad leaving this wood, your home?"

"Forever shall I hold this place in my heart, and an elf's heart beats with a tenacious memory, strong and true. Wherever I go, I take it with me. However, my future lies elsewhere. Sad though it is for me to go, I feel I must. I hope Mithryn enjoys Ithilien as much as I think she will," he said thoughtfully.

"Ah, yes, Mithryn. It is curious. She does not appear improved since last I saw her."

"It is true that her health is not as it once was, but she is mending, I assure you. She is frequently troubled by nightmares, and therefore, gets little rest. Worry not for her, my friend! I keep her in good care."

Gimli smiled, but was not convinced. His Dwarven companions were retiring to bed, and Gimli decided to join them. "This Elvish food and song makes one sleepy," he said yawning.

The next morning, all was prepared for the large party of Elves and Dwarves to make their departure. Galamed had requested a private word with Haldof and Legolas to say farewell; each promised to send frequent letters.

The remaining elves in King Galamed's realm assembled, sadly, once more to bid farewell to their friends and family, and the departure of thirty-six elves, twenty-two dwarves, and Mithryn began. Such would be an odd sight for any passerby, but they met none while departing Eryn Lasgalen.

On the first night of their journey they set up camp and, in high humour, sat around the fireside feasting and reciting thrilling stories. Gimli had a wide-eyed Culúril on his knee, while Haldof held a spot beside Legolas and Mithryn.

"So you see, young elf," Gimli said to Culúril, "your father is a great swordsman and archer alike. Many orc necks did he hew, but not quite as many as I, of course."

"That is readily believable," Haldof whispered to Legolas. "Do not look at me so. Long have I noticed your ill aim."

Gimli continued on, saying, "Shall I tell you of one of the times I saved your father's life?"

"Gimli, I had not known!" Haldof said, speaking up. "Legolas, shame on you for never sharing that with us. Pray continue, Master Gimli! We should all enjoy hearing that, I believe."

"Gimli," Legolas protested, "Surely we need not bore everyone with that old tale."

"I am profoundly interested," a stout dwarf said, also sitting nearby, leisurely smoking his pipe.

"Do not be so sheepish, Legolas," Haldof said, a smirk upon his face. "I think all of us would love to hear the account of Gimli saving your life."

Legolas turned to Gimli, "If you do, I shall follow it with a story of mine own. Be forewarned!"

"Of what event?" Gimli said suspiciously.

"The Paths of the Dead," Legolas said ominously.

"Nay, you would not!" Gimli said, defensively.

"Ai, what is this?" Haldof asked. "Another harrowing tale? Though one that fails to discomfort Legolas, so I fear I would not enjoy it as much. Nevertheless, we must have our stories, we Elves. Come, Master Gimli! Begin with your tale if you please!"

"Nay," Gimli said, his hands on Culúril's tiny waist. "'Tis a dull story to be sure! One not worth repeating. Perhaps I could tell you, instead, about the beautiful Glittering Caves that Legolas and I explored!"

"Not the Glittering Caves again," Haldof said under his breath, but, as there was naught else to do, he turned a bored ear and listened once again to the magnificence in the earth's depths.

Their journey took them west of the great forest, and there they followed the mighty Anduin River down to the Brown Lands. Close did they come to Lothlórien, but Gimli had no desire to go there, knowing that Galadriel had since passed.

"We travel at too slow a pace!" Gimli complained to Legolas after they had stopped, yet again, for nourishment. "I have vivid memories of our quest. It was not nearly as dull!"

"Dull?" Legolas repeated, amused. "Nay, I think not. But, recollect that we have ladies and Culúril in our company. It is not as though we are chasing a band of Uruk-hai, Gimli."

"Alas for that," Gimli said yearningly before walking away.

Weeks had passed, and still the band pushed on. Most were thoroughly enjoying their journey as they were seeing more of Middle Earth than they had in their entire lifetime. Though Sauron and his armies had perished now years ago, their loathsome mark could still be seen on the landscape. The Elves gazed at the scarred lands and forests with itchy fingers, eager to begin the restoration.

They travelled by day, and rested by night. Though always travelling on Anfalas's back, Mithryn wearied easily, and required frequent rest. Gimli maintained a watchful eye upon her, and, as their trek progressed, the more alarmed he became.

After weeks of pleasant but uneventful travel, they had at last arrived in Gondor. Minas Tirith was but a few days journey now, and the thought of friends, good food, and comfortable beds pushed the weary travellers onward with renewed enthusiasm.

Minas Tirith, sparkling in the sun, was at last reached, but none had expected the splendid welcome that they received. Every occupant of the city, agog with interest, watched the approaching company and hailed them with waving flags and heartfelt cheers. "Far different do the people appear than when we were last here," thought Legolas. Moving upward to the highest tower, the travellers were admitted to the throne room of King Elessar, and were greeted by him, his queen, and their young son, Eldarion.

"Friends, old and new, I welcome you to Gondor and Minas Tirith. Far have you travelled, but you shall rest here a time before moving onward to south Ithilien. Evil has separated our races at times, but that evil has been defeated. Let there be no more resentment or suspicion between Gondor, Eryn Lasgalan, and Lonely Mountain. Today we stand as brothers."

Legolas and Gimli, each a representative of his race, stepped forward and proudly placed a hand atop of Aragorn's. The crowd, including the Dwarves, cheered boisterously and began to intermingle with Elf, Dwarf, and Man alike.

"How happy I am that you have come," Aragorn said to Legolas and Gimli. "It feels an age since you were here."

"An age is too short a time!" Gimli retorted. "Our journey is what felt like an age! Such a tedious pace; you could not believe, Aragorn!"

Aragorn's eyes sparkled with laughter. "But you are here at last. Legolas, where is Mithryn? Long have you spoken of her, and finally do I get to meet her!"

"I will fetch her," Legolas said before weeding through the crowd in search of her and their son. Upon his return, he carried Culúril in his arms, and saw Arwen had joined them carrying, too, a small child.

"_Mae govannen_, Lady Arwen," Legolas said, smiling. "How wonderful to see you again. Aragorn, may I present Mithryn, my wife."

Mithryn bowed, and Aragorn surveyed the frail, shell of a woman who stood before him. "How could this be?" he thought to himself as he politely kissed her hand. "Legolas had spoken of a strong, magical creature with powers beyond imagination."

"Well met," Aragorn said to Mithryn, a gentle smile on his lips. "Legolas has spoken much of you and I am delighted to meet you at last. May I, in turn, present my wife to you, Lady Mithryn? Queen Arwen."

Handing Aragorn Eldarion, Arwen stepped forward, embracing Mithryn. "My dear! How tired you appear! After such a journey it is no wonder. Come! I shall lead you to your chamber where you can rest."

The ladies withdrew, and Legolas and Aragorn were left holding their sons. "He has the look of you," Aragorn said, observing Culúril's face. "Though the hair of Mithryn."

Legolas, for the first time, beheld Eldarion. The child, now nearly six months of age, had dark hair like his mother, but the face held all the race of his father. Definite elvish traits were noticeable, but even the ears failed to point. The child was delightful but, undoubtably, mortal.

Gimli smiled at Eldarion and held out his rough hand. "He has the likeness of his father, to be sure! Aragorn, no more suspense! When are we to begin work? The stonework I saw as I passed through this city is in shambles!"

"Much work is needed, I agree, Master Dwarf," Aragorn said, amused, "but you are my guests here. I could not set you to work on your first night. Much is planned for your entertainment: minstrels, musicians, jugglers, dancers, and the finest ale that could be procured."

Gimli snorted. "Ale? Why did you not say so! To be sure, the fun can wait," and he was soon swept away by Dwarves asking his opinion on the steps they would reconstruct at first opportunity.

Aragorn shook his head, smiling. "What a journey you must have had."

"Aye," Legolas said. "It was nothing but masonry, the Glittering Caves, and the tardiness of our speed the entire journey. It was almost like old times travelling with him again."

"Did it rain much?"

"A few times, though as we travelled steadily south, the weather warmed."

"And Mithryn, did she have a fair journey? I thought her a trifle fatigued. She does not seem the same woman you described to me so long ago," he said quietly, looking down at the oak floor.

Legolas replied, "Aye, she is wearied, but a few days rest will restore her, I am sure. Tell me, how has the land altered since I was last here? Any change since Sauron's defeat?"

Aragorn noticed Legolas's sudden change in subject, but did not attempt to bring it round again. For the time he would be happy just to have two of his dear friends beside him again.

**Author's Note:** _Please let me know what you think!_


	42. Chapter XLII Culmination

**CHAPTER 42**

**CULMINATION**

The cool wintery nights of Gondor had resigned in favour of a warm spring followed by a hot, humid summer. In the several months that followed the Elves' arrival in Ithilien, their hard work proved promising as, once again, good things began to grow where there had been naught but barren wastelands of scarred earth and stone.

Likewise, the Dwarves had been equally successful with their masonry enterprises of staircases, walls, balustrades, archways, and city roads. They enjoyed teaching Gondor's masons and apprentices the correct way to make magnificent stonework that would last an age or more.

Peacefully, both Elves and Dwarves shared a small village in the beauteous hills of Ithilien; close enough to Minas Tirith, yet on their own land, given to them generously by King Elessar. Trees there grew in plenty, and a fresh, rocky, trout stream wound its way through the many woods and valleys until finally emptying in the mighty Anduin River but a few leagues away.

The king's skillful carpenters, bricklayers and roofers had built functional, yet beautiful houses for each member of the Elf and Dwarf village. Constructed of thick limestone and thatched roofs, the cottages were cool in the summer, and warm in the winter.

All had progressed and improved in Ithilien save one...Mithryn. The months following their journey had not successfully restored her as Legolas hoped they would. She remained tired and languid, weak and spiritless. Legolas gazed at her with growing despair. He could find no cause for her debilitation, and still she grew more ill. It was not until the fourteenth of June that his concern for her well-being reached a state of desperation. She could no longer rise from their bed and had no desire for nourishment no matter what tempting dishes the Elves presented to her.

Searching out his trustworthy friend, Legolas beseeched him for aid and advice. "I have never seen her thus, Gimli," Legolas said, his voice shaky. "Steadily has she grown more afflicted, but I always expected her to mend as she has in times past. I worry so! She can barely raise her head, and refuses even the tiniest morsel of food!"

Gimli listened and replied as calmly as his voice would allow. "There is naught for it, Legolas. You must fetch Aragorn. Can you not recall how he healed Merry and that steely maiden, Éowyn, when she lay dying? Is it not probable that he could heal your Mithryn as well?"

Blinking, Legolas reprimanded himself for not thinking of that himself. Placing a grateful hand on Gimli's shoulder, he thanked him dearly and climbed upon Arod, riding swiftly to the white city of Minas Tirith.

The guardsmen recognized him at a glance and Legolas rode in, not dismounting until he had ridden to the highest peak of the city and reached the Great Hall of Kings. Legolas beckoned a guard and requested an audience with his Majesty. Seeing the panicked look of urgency upon Legolas's face, the sentinel hastily carried out his orders. Aragorn, receiving a message that Prince Legolas was here and in much distress, dispensed with formalities and, instead, followed the guard immediately.

"Legolas, what is amiss?" Aragorn asked when he had joined his friend on the green.

"Mithryn is very ill. Deathly ill, I fear," he choked. "Aragorn, I knew not what to do so I came to ask for help if you could give it."

"Of course I will assist in any way I can. Has she contracted some sort of fever?"

"Aye, she has a fever, but I suspect it to be merely a symptom, not the cause."

"But, how long has she been ailing?"

Shaking his head, Legolas said, "I know not for certain. She has never fully recovered from the wound an orc inflicted on her several summers ago. Her health improves only to deteriorate again, and so on. Yet, Aragorn, I have never seen her so frail as now. I greatly fear for her life. Please, help!"

"Worry not. My aid you have." Aragorn ordered the guard to fetch him his most skilled physician and supplies. "Trust me, Legolas," he assured, "we shall discover the cause of her ailment. Come, we must leave at once."

Celebwen, the elf-maid who looked after Mithryn, was beside herself with worry. Mithryn lay on the bed, quite still, her arms lifeless at her sides. Repetitively, Celebwen wiped her hot, sweaty brow with cool water, but she could not quench the persistent fever within. Traditional remedies had been tried but all were in vain. A low, rasping breath came from Mithryn as she made soft, confused sounds. Delirium afflicted her while she slept. She was so worn and tired, she could no longer raise herself to take even a sip water.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Legolas strode in, followed closely by Aragorn and an old, stout-looking woman carrying a satchel.

"Celebwen, this is King Elessar, and his physician, Ioreth. They have come to help Mithryn."

"Welcome, indeed, King Elessar and Ioreth!" Celebwen said, bowing. "Mithryn's condition is beyond my expertise."

"Then there is no time to be lost," Aragorn replied. "Legolas, I fear that you cannot aid us here. We shall take the very best care of her, but for now, you had best wait outside."

Legolas did not want to leave Mithryn, but he knew, from the battle weary days, that Aragorn could be trusted completely to wrestle with this formidable enemy. Stealing one last fleeting glance at his wife sleeping fitfully, he stepped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

While Celebwen went to tend to the water boiling on the hearth, Aragorn and Ioreth gently rolled Mithryn onto her side to examine the wound. He held up the lantern while Ioreth peeled back her nightdress, discreetly covering her.

"My lord," she said, running her hand over the wound which was red and swollen, "how old be this injury?"

"Neigh on four years, though it hardly looks it," Aragorn said.

"To be sure, this is the cause of all that ails her. What was it again? An arrow?"

"Nay," Celebwen replied as she returned with the boiling water. "An orc sword. It is believed that a piece broke off and could not be recovered. 'Twas simply too deep."

"Well, that is it, plain as daybreak!" Ioreth exclaimed. "But I'll tell you, my lord, healing skills I may have and operating skills besides, but if Elves were unable to extract the bit of steel, it's unlikely that I'd be able to. I'd be more afraid of causing her further pain and harm, so weak as she is. She would not survive the operation, methinks." She gently rolled Mithryn on to her back, making her comfortable again.

Aragorn furrowed his brow, and asked pointedly of Celebwen: "Does Legolas know of what you say?"

Celebwen stared guiltily at the floor. "Nay. My lord's orders were clear. Legolas was not to know, nor Mithryn."

"Why?" Ioreth interjected before Aragorn could speak.

"The king felt it to be in both their best interests," Celebwen replied.

"His best interests, more like," Ioreth said. "Now, I don't mean any disrespecting your king, but that decision was wrong, and I wouldn't mind telling him!"

"Do you mean to tell Mithryn, my lord?" Celebwen asked.

"Aye, I shall tell her." He kindly asked both ladies to leave, and when the door had closed, he extracted two athelas leaves from the satchel Ioreth had been carrying and dropped them into the bowl of steaming water. A thick, sweet aroma quickly filled the air around Mithryn as he held the bowl close to her face. She stirred and opened her heavy eyelids.

"Lord Aragorn," she whispered. "What do you do here?"

"I visit you, Mithryn. Legolas has been so worried for you."

"I know. He worries so, but soon he shall worry no more."

"What do you speak of, Mithryn?" Aragorn asked, his heart beginning to pound in his chest.

"I am not a fool, Lord Aragorn. I know how ill I am." Mithryn smiled. "My lord, what has Legolas told you of me?"

"Of what do you mean?"

"My powers. What has he said?"

"Why, that you are like your father in many ways, and in turn, carry some of his abilities. I know that you age slowly, like he, that you possess certain wizarding powers, are skilled in healing, and have the gift of foresight."

"Has he ever mentioned to you the things that I have seen?"

"Once or twice, perhaps. Mithryn," he said, shaking his head, apologetically, "I do not follow. What is it you are saying?"

"Knowing what you know of me, do you truly suppose that one who can see the future cannot also foresee her own future?"

Aragorn sat back, awed. "How long have you known?"

"That I am dying? Since the beginning," she whispered. "In truth, the future is ever changing, Lord Aragorn. It is not fixed. Every decision alters our future, our fate. Had I not met Legolas in the woods that day, how different both our lives would be now."

"And Legolas does not know?"

"Nay. Like King Thranduil, I had not the heart to tell him. Aye, I knew that others knew of my condition. 'Twas obvious, really. The way they bustled about looking after me. The sadness in their eyes was unmistakable. Even in Haldof's face, whom I know never approved of me." A lone tear rolled down her cheek. "I have had no contrition on the decisions I've made. I knew how it would be, and I regret nothing."

"Not even for sending Legolas away to join the Fellowship?" Seeing the surprised look on her face, he nodded. "Aye, he has told me of that."

"I regret that least of all. He is a great warrior and contributed much to the success of the Fellowship and to this time of peace. He has made such dear friends; you know not how much he loves you all. He will need all his friends dearly when I am gone. You must promise to take good care of him," she pleaded.

"You have my word," he replied, so deeply touched, he, too, wept a quiet tear. "If only Lord Elrond were here. His powers of healing quite outweigh my own. Mithryn...I cannot save you."

Smiling gently at him, "My lord, do not reproach yourself. You forget. I knew how it would be."

A thought, not having occurred to him before, appeared in his mind. "Mithryn," he said hastily, full of new hope and vigor, "what of Valinor? The Undying Lands?"

A vague shadow appeared in her eyes, and her face looked unsettled. "What of it?"

"You must go to Valinor!"

"Lord Aragorn, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but, as well you know, it is not possible. As you can plainly see, I am not Elf-kind, and therefore, unwelcome."

Aragorn, however, was not convinced. "Mortals are not shunned from its shores, I'll have you know, Mithryn. Both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins were invited to live out their lives in that land."

"Yet, as I understand it, they were the Bearers of the One Ring, and consequently, very privileged, indeed. I cannot boast of their achievement."

"Perhaps not, yet you are daughter of Gandalf the White, daughter of an Istari, and married daughter of King Thranduil. If you but had a representative to speak for you, I feel certain you would have a chance! Legolas could..."

But Mithryn stopped him abruptly. "Nay, Aragorn," she said with as much strength as she could muster. "You may be doing a courtesy for me, but trust it that you are doing a disservice for Legolas."

"I know his wish would be that you live, Mithryn. Do you so desire death?"

"Nay, but you cannot understand this matter," she said firmly.

"Then, pray explain it to me!"

She took a deep breath and said, "An Elf's heart is deep. Legolas carries love for many things: his home, his people, Culúril, myself, his friends and these lands especially...You cannot know how he suffered during the war, Aragorn. You all saw the same horrors, fought in the same battles, and yet, you know not what it means to feel as an elf feels. Nor do I, entirely. Arwen, I am sure, will tell you what I say is true. You, Gimli, and the Hobbits all pulled him through a time where otherwise he would have felt naught but utter misery. He has grown more close to you all than perhaps you realize. I believe Gimli understands. When you all die, as is your fate, you know not how Legolas will suffer. Time is essential. He will spend as much time with you all as possible. His family is waiting in Valinor for him until the time you all have is passed. Not before will he leave Middle Earth."

"And how, pray tell, do you think Legolas will suffer when you die?"

"He will recognize that my life was spent as it should have been. He will know that no time was lost, and every moment treasured."

"And if he were to bring you to Valinor? You know not how he would feel. I would think him glad that you have lived." Mithryn looked away, and Aragorn saw pain in her eyes. "What is it?"

"If we did as you suggest, of course Legolas would be happy at first, but a gulf would slowly divide us. I have seen it, Aragorn. I have seen him. Sad and despondent. How he laments his friends whom he has lost, never to see again. We, neither of us, would live in peace and harmony. I would live on, but forever would he turn his thoughts back to Middle Earth and wonder how she fares...and wonder, also, of the fate of old friends left behind."

"I know Legolas, and he would not do as you say."

"And I know what I saw!" she said, tears coming more freely now. "If I die, I know you and Gimli would be there to comfort him. Furthermore, he once gave a promise to me long ago that he would not sail until his heart bade him leave. I cannot force him to leave by way of my illness and mortality. He has made a fervent commitment to this land and to his friends." Aragorn sat back in his chair, still unconvinced. "Now," Mithryn said, closing her eyes. "This discussion has made me very tired. May I have a little rest now?"

"Of course," and he silently slipped out of the room into the warm sunshine of a perfect June afternoon.

Legolas nearly pounced on him, begging for information, Gimli close on his heels. "Aragorn, at last!" Legolas exclaimed. "You were so long! Pray, tell me what has happened. Have you been able to help her at all?"

Staring into the eyes of Legolas, so full of hope, Aragorn could barely speak. "Before I tell you, there is something you aught to know. You were correct in assuming Mithryn had never fully recovered from her orc wound. What you were incorrect in assuming was that none knew of her deteriorating health. Legolas, I know none would speak to you of this, but Mithryn is dying, and many, I fear, have known of this eventuality for years."

"Years?" Gimli repeated, unable to believe it. "You say his kindred had known for years and none breathed a word to him?"

"Nor to Mithryn," Aragorn added. "Yet, she knew."

"Dying...you are certain?" Legolas said in a quivering voice. Aragorn nodded, and Legolas continued, though his voice was now bitter and cold. "And they knew...and she knew and did not tell me?"

"You have every right to be angry, but we are not certain how many of your kindred were told of her condition," Aragorn said, gently.

"My father, to be sure," Legolas said, wiping away a hate- filled tear.

"Aye, that I would assume," Aragorn said.

"But Mithryn," Legolas said. "Why would she not speak? I am her husband! If their motives were only to spare me pain, they have done nothing but delayed it!

"As for Mithryn's reasons, you had best ask her yourself," Aragorn said, gently.

"Do not be too harsh on her, though," Gimli added, wisely.

Legolas thought a moment and then wearily shook his head. "Nay. Mithryn was only ever supportive of me and my decisions. Who am I to punish her at such a moment as this? I do wish she would have told me, however," he said as he wiped a watery eye yet again. "May I go in and see her?"

"Aye," Aragorn said, "but before you do, know that, though it appears bleak, I have a plan which may save her."

"Ha! Gimli said, brightening. "Trust you, Aragorn, to have a plan when we are ready for despair! Come, let us hear it now! What is this plan of yours?"

Legolas sat on the bed and placed his cool hand on Mithryn's hot brow. She opened her eyes, and smiled up at him. "I dreamt of you," she said.

"You dreamt of me?" he repeated, his sea-blue eyes beaming down at her.

"You were on a ship. The wind was fair, and the sky was warm and bright. You were so happy."

He laughed a moment, but his smile faded quickly. "Mithryn, why did you never tell me? You knew how it would be, didn't you?"

She nodded, and her face looked pained. "I knew I would not recover."

"And yet you sent me away for a year...never saying a word?" Legolas asked, deeply hurt.

"You had a duty to perform. Your place was there. I could not ask you to be my sick-maid."

"Nay. Nay, for I am your husband. My place is by your side...always...and especially in time of disaster."

"Let me ask you, would you still have gone with the Fellowship if you had known of my condition?"

Inwardly, Legolas struggled for his answer. He wished to say yes, but had he known Mithryn was doomed to die so soon, he knew in his heart he could not have abandoned her for so many months. He bent his head, admitting that she was correct.

Suddenly the door opened, and Haldof entered. He had, but a few minutes before, the good fortune to observe a conversation that he had been dreading for years. Ever nearby, silently watchful, he saw the three from a perch on a tree above. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas spoke in hushed whispers, and Legolas, he could clearly see, was greatly affected by such news that Aragorn was sharing with him, yet, no words had escaped Haldof's keen, elvish ears. His heart sank upon realizing that the truth was now known to his brother. Mithryn was dying, and Legolas knew the truth. Haldof stood there, resolute; none would call him a coward. Aragorn and Gimli attempted to deny him entry into Legolas and Mithryn's cottage, but Haldof insisted. Upon entering, he said, "Ah, Mithryn and Legolas. Do I disturb? 'Tis a tender, touching scene. Had I best withdraw?"

"Nay, for I have words for you," Legolas said darkly. "You have known longer than any how ill she is. Confess it, Haldof! Did you not know years ago that Mithryn would die?"

"If you mean that she would die because she is mortal, you too knew it, Legolas," Haldof said, haughtily. "But as to me knowing that her illness would worsen, I freely admit it. I was merely following Father's orders of supreme secrecy. Neither of you were to know. May I ask how you discovered this?"

"I knew, Haldof," Mithryn said. "I have always known."

"And I, too, should have known that you, likewise, have always known," Haldof said. Both stared at him. "This conversation becomes too complex for me. Pray continue, Legolas. Do not let me disturb you."

Legolas jumped up and lunged at Haldof, throwing him against the wall. Mithryn called out, but was unable to move from her sickbed. "Do not jest at this time, Haldof!" Legolas said, his eyes fiery with anger. "There is no humour here. Does it fail your grasp that I shall lose my wife forever? Have you no heart? No shame? Are you completely lost to all feeling?" A large tear welled in his eye as he released Haldof's shirt and moved back to sit beside Mithryn. Standing alone against the wall, Haldof watched the sad pair before him.

"Aragorn has told me of his plan..." Legolas said, ignoring Haldof, and concentration on Mithryn.

"Legolas," she said, holding her fingers up to his lips, silencing him, "pray listen before you say another word. You gave me a life to be proud of. While I was alone, I had nothing. And then you came, and I was born again. My time with you has been so precious, and you have given me so much. Now it is time for me to give you something. Time." He tried to retort, but her fingers once again hushed his soft lips. "Even if I lived through this, Haldof is right. One day I shall die. Because I am part mortal, whatever time I can give you is precious. We knew it was not for eternity. One day you will understand, and hopefully forgive me."

Legolas let out a great sob and pulled Mithryn tightly to his breast. His brother watched silently from the wall, his mind racing. Action must be taken, and he would willingly surrender his own heart's desire for whom he holds so dear. Taking a few steps toward them he said, "I shall take Mithryn to Valinor."

Legolas still held Mithryn in his arms, but they gazed up at Haldof, bewildered by what they had just heard.

"Nay, you have heard correctly," Haldof said. "I shall do it. I shall take Mithryn to Valinor."

Gently placing Mithryn back on her pillow, Legolas rose, and shook his head. "Haldof, I do not understand. I had believed it your wish never to leave Middle Earth, and now you choose to go to Valinor?"

"I will be honest, Brother. Nothing holds me here, now. Unlike you, I have made no promises, no commitments to these trees, these rocks," Haldof replied, lying through his teeth.

"Yet, you told Father," Legolas argued, "'till there is no day..."

"However," Haldof said, raising his hand to silence his brother's protests, "it is Mithryn's only hope. And, to honour your obligations, she will not let you go at this time. Is that correct, Mithryn?" She nodded her head, uncertain of Haldof's intentions. "Well then," he said, continuing, "there is no other solution. I shall take her and you will, therefore, be keeping your promises to all."

"How do you know all this?" Legolas asked, bewildered.

"I must confess, I overheard you speaking with Aragorn and Gimli."

Legolas shook his head. "Haldof, your intentions are honourable, and I am touched, but I will not have you sacrifice your own desires for me."

"Legolas," Haldof said, his voice becoming low and firm, "you are my brother. There is nothing I would not do for you."

Greatly moved, Legolas stepped forward and clasped Haldof in a tight embrace.

"Come," Haldof said, "if we are to try and catch the grey ship, there is no time to be lost. I only wish that we had left last week. Mithryn, do you feel strong enough for a journey? We will fasten a wagon to carry you, but I fear the ride will do you more harm than good. Our pace will have to be fast, I fear, if we are to make it to the Grey Havens in time."

"Aye," said Mithryn, smiling, "I feel hardy enough."

**Author's Note:** _Please let me know if you're enjoying my story, and review!_


	43. Chapter XLIII Partings and Greetings

**CHAPTER 43**

**PARTINGS AND GREETINGS**

After an hour's frenzied preparation, Mithryn and her escort set off for the Grey Havens. In that group was Legolas, Gimli, Haldof, and Aragorn. Anfalas had been harnessed to a tan covered wagon, the inside of which was comfortably lined with soft pillows and warm blankets to ease Mithryn's discomfort during the bumpy journey ahead. All others rode on horseback save Gimli who eagerly volunteered to steer the wagon carrying Mithryn.

Culúril, upon seeing both parents abandoning him, flew into a high state that was both obstreperous and vociferous, and would not be appeased until they relented and decided to take him with them. He was seated merrily in front of his dear Papa, watching the land and trees flash by.

A week passed and the outskirts of Eryn Lasgalen were finally reached. They were so close to friends and loved ones but could not halt as they had no time to waste on lighthearted matters. Stopping for rest neath the shady trees of the Gladden Fields, Mithryn, struggling, sat up and gazed about to view her childhood homeland. It was utterly unrecognizable. All the bushes and trees in which she had explored and played during her girlhood were gone, and new plant life had sprouted up in its stead. The only recognizable feature was the Anduin River, the sun glistening like diamonds off its tumbling waves. Lying back down, she closed her eyes and listened to the sweet songs of the thrushes and starlings whose ancestors had called to her all those many years ago.

Sunlight faded as Haldof skillfully showed the curious Culúril how to fish merely by putting his hands in the clear water. After much splashing and jovial laughter on Culúril's part, dinner was caught and soon masterfully prepared by Aragorn.

For Mithryn, dinner by the fireside became intolerable. The pain of her constant rising in and out of the wagon was extreme, and, in the end, Legolas brought meals to her. She found it difficult to chew at times but could not refuse even though her stomach revolted in protest. She could not let Legolas down by not trying to stay alive.

After the meal, Legolas took his sleepy son and went back to Mithryn. Haldof watched their shadows move within the rig and listened to the soft, gentle singing of Legolas as he stroked a limp child on his lap. Gimli quietly approached, examining Haldof intently.

"I had thought that you wished to remain longer in Middle Earth," said the dwarf, puffing away on his pipe.

Haldof turned at the sound. "I had thought so, but changed my mind."

"Strange to travel such a distance to Ithilien, only to depart so quickly."

"You know not what it is like, feeling the call of the sea," Haldof replied as he contemplated the fire.

"And neither do you. Do you, Elf?" said Gimli, his pipe in his mouth.

For a moment, Haldof said nothing but stared at the Dwarf. "Does Legolas know?"

"Difficult to say," Gimli replied, poking the dying fire with a long stick, making the embers erupt again in glorious flame and cascades of red sparks. "I know not if he believes thee, or merely suspects you are doing a kindness on his part. Your brother is a very wise Elf, Haldof. However, in this instance, I am wiser than he."

"Oh, how?" Haldof asked, skeptically.

"I see what he cannot because I understand you, Haldof," Gimli said, gruffly.

"You speak in naught but riddles, Dwarf," Haldof said, getting more annoyed by the minute.

"Then allow me to speak plainly!" Gimli said, lowering his voice and tossing his stick into the fire. He withdrew a fine crystal from neath his shirt and held it up to the light. A fine gold chain was attached to it, and inside the crystal were what appeared to be several golden hairs. "A gift from a lady I love dearly, but can never have. I see plainly in you what I see in myself. "

"You have had too much ale!" Haldof said sourly, as he turned and walked away.

Gimli, determined, followed. "Mine eyes are not wrongly affected," he said quietly. "I see how you avoid gazing at her, yet are aware of even the flicker of her eyelash. Indeed, I first noticed it upon returning from the Great War. I merely wanted to say that I think you are doing a noble thing, Haldof. Relinquishing your own desires of staying here to spare her life. If what Aragorn says is true, if Mithryn is refused on the shores of Valinor, you cannot return."

"I know not of what you are speaking," Haldof said, irritably and with a heightened colour in his face. "I think you mad, Dwarf!"

"Aye," Gimli said, nodding his head, understanding. Haldof would never admit his true love for Mithryn. Could not. "Aye, perhaps I mistake, Haldof. I will say no more...to anyone." Gimli stomped away, leaving Haldof alone. He sat by the water bank, and soon heard soft footsteps behind him. Legolas sat down, and now, beside his brother, he could let his mask slide and revealed a heavy despondency. He slumped and was silent for a few minutes.

"Culúril is finally asleep," Legolas said with a sigh. "He wanted nothing but to sleep with his mother tonight. I know not how he will react when the time comes to say goodbye. I know not how _I_ will react..." Legolas glanced at Haldof, whose face was strongly contorted. "What troubles thee, Brother? You know, if you have changed your mind, you must speak. I'm sure we could think of something..."

"Nay," Haldof said, quick to reply. "It is nothing."

Knowing better than to disturb Haldof when cross, he stood up saying, "Well, I will leave you, then. Mithryn is waiting for me. Goodnight, Haldof."

"Goodnight, Legolas," Haldof said, gazing steadfastly into the dark depths of the river.

For twenty more days the small company travelled with speed and agility further and further north until finally reaching the shores of the Grey Havens. At first, Aragorn worried that they had missed the ship as they had arrived at such a late hour. They hurriedly rode past the colossal, empty towers built by Elves of old and headed toward the shores of the Grey Havens. A misty haze hovered upon the water and dimly revealed a gathering of Elves waiting for the White Ship's arrival as well. Cheerfully, Aragorn cast his worries aside.

"THAT is the sea?" Gimli said gruffly, thoroughly unimpressed. "'Tis all cloudy and grey! You Elves are strange creatures to desire to sail across any such an uncertain, barren expanse! Why, you know not what enemy may be lurking in all that mist and haze!"

The Elves close by and far off laughed with a sound like soft bells in their voices upon hearing this outburst of Gimli's. Legolas, Haldof, and Aragorn, meanwhile, were carefully lifting Mithryn down from the wagon and onto a stretcher. The Elves watched, curious of the newcomer's plans with that ill mortal, but said nothing. Suddenly two Elves stepped forward out of the throng, while a child of several years followed close behind, and ran up to Legolas and Haldof.

"Why, Elmarin! Taranin! Finaviel!" Haldof exclaimed, embracing each, as did Legolas. "What good fortune to have met you here!"

"Why, Mithryn!" Elmarin exclaimed, kneeling down and placing a cool hand on Mithryn's hot brow. "Fortunate indeed that we both arrive on the same day. Do you go to Valinor? Legolas may fancy himself a sick nurse, but we know the truth. Now I can aid you on our voyage while we let him play at sailing with the children."

Mithryn smiled, and was about to speak when Gimli's gruff voice spoke for her. "Nay, you mistake. Legolas does not go. Haldof is taking Mithryn to Valinor."

Elmarin and Taranin each shot confused glances at Legolas and Haldof. "Ah," Taranin said. "Well, you have naught to fear, Legolas. We shall see her safely set on its shores."

Aragorn strode up, Culúril in his arms. "This little one has been exploring, chasing sea gulls, and came close to running into the waves," he explained before greeting Elmarin and Taranin whom he had known from his days in Mirkwood. They conversed lightly in elvish over events in Galamed's realm, but soon an outburst of rapturous exclamations came from the other Elves. Turning, the party saw a tall, white ship slowly emerging from the silvery mist. It's large sails billowed from the salty wind that swept over each of them, lifting their long hair to flit around their smiling faces.

After the ship had docked, the Elves slowly began to climb aboard. Cirdan the Shipwright stepped onto the pebbly beach and approached them, his long, grey beard fluttering gently with the breeze. "Greetings, dear friends. It is my understanding that you wish to send this mortal to Valinor in hope of saving her life. Know that she is not invited."

Legolas moved to speak, but Haldof stepped forward, his voice firm and powerful. "She is no mere mortal! She is the daughter of an Istari, known to us as Mithrandir, married daughter of Elf-King, Thranduil, my father, wife of Prince Legolas here, and is mother of Culúril, Elf-child, as well as extraordinary healer of our people. There are those who will speak for her, even in Valinor, of her accomplishments and her successes in battling Sauron, the deceiver, and of saving many elves from orc attacks in our kingdom when the war began."

Cirdan stared at Haldof a moment, his wise, sparkling eyes studying him very closely indeed. "There is no need to continue as I am not preventing her sailing. And am I to understand that you shall represent her?"

"I shall," Haldof said.

"Kindly bring her aboard, but know that I can offer no promises."

At last, Legolas found his voice. "What will happen if she is rejected?"

"Then I shall return with her in a sennight's time, but I warn you. Do not dare to hope."

Aragorn placed Culúril in Mithryn's tired arms. She still had some strength to hold him fast and close to her heart. Weeping, yet still struggling to be brave, she said, "Never forget, my son. Never forget your mother. To you it will seem but a day since we say goodbye, but you shall always be in my heart and thoughts. I love you, my little elf. Listen to your father, and remember to always be good and always do good."

Sensing his mother's distress, he, too, began to cry, though with much more vigor and spirit. When Aragorn attempted to pick him up again, the child let out a wail so powerful, several Elves on board turned to stare at the dramatic scene.

"There is naught for it," Legolas said, kneeling down, and stroking Mithryn's head. "You must take him with you, Darling. Perhaps it will aid in your entry."

"But when you see him next, he will no longer be the child you see. He will be a fully grown elf," Mithryn whispered.

He smiled. "No matter, he should be with you, nonetheless. I shall have forever with him. Even if your time with him lasts but a week, it should not be wasted."

Lifting her up, Legolas carried Mithryn onto the ship as Elmarin, Taranin, and Finaviel lead the way. Haldof matched his stride to Culúril's little steps as they followed behind.

Anfalas reared and bucked in her harness upon seeing her matron being carried away. Neighing, and calling out in distress, Anfalas would not be coaxed into submission. Cirdan turned to Haldof, an amused smile upon his face. "You had best take that mare aboard. It seems she does not want to be left behind."

Aragorn quickly unhooked the harness and, without a lead, Anfalas strode up to the boat and stepped aboard freely. Legolas sat beside Mithryn, straightening her pillows and putting an extra blanket about her shoulders. He knew the time had finally come. He had to say goodbye.

Warm tears began to trail down his soft cheeks, and he wiped hers away. "You must stay strong, do you hear me? You must live for Culúril, and for me. The time will come shortly, I promise, and then I shall come to you. Then there shall be no more pain. No more heartache...and we shall never be apart again. No more wars to be fought. No more battles to be won. I will never leave you again, this I swear. But you must hold on. Just this little way longer, my love, and I will come to you. The wind will fill my sails, and it will carry me straight to you! You will know when I am coming, I know you will! Only just stay strong, my dearest love, I beg you. We will meet again."

"Farewell, my only love. 'Till next we meet," she whispered, and a few Elves present shed merciful tears. "Look for me in the stars. I will meet you there."

No more words did Legolas have. They were all spent. He merely pulled her close and held her until he knew he could hold her no more. Then, one long, last kiss, memorized forever. Stepping back onto the stony beach, he turned to see the ship begin to slip away, and Aragorn and Gimli approached. Haldof could clearly be seen, Culúril in his arms, on the deck of the ship. He raised a hand in farewell.

"Ai!" cried Legolas, wiping away his salty tears. "I had forgotten to say goodbye to Haldof!"

"Pay it no mind," Gimli said, as he, too, waved farewell to an elf he had once disliked but had grown to respect. "I am certain he will not hold it against thee for this is a decision he could not resist...and will never regret."

For a few minutes, the ship steadily got smaller and smaller, until it began to be enveloped in the mist and soon...was gone.

When Legolas had washed his face with salty seawater, Gimli's grumbling stomach brought the conversation round to dinner plans. "Shall we camp here for a week, then?" Gimli said, rubbing his hungry tummy. "I must say, I don't much care for the waters edge, nor those massive empty towers, though finely built they are."

"Nay," said Aragorn, "I do not think we should remain here. Fear not, Legolas, we shall return well before a sennight expires, but this gloomy place is not fit for us. Now, I know of a place where we can find the very best of food and ale, and three very cheerful faces to warm even the most downcast of spirits. What say you? Shall we go and visit the Hobbits?"

"Aye, that is a truly noble plan!" Gimli bellowed joyfully. "And food the like of which will fill your dreams and forever make you mad with desire for more. At least, that's what my father always said about Bilbo's kitchen. Shall we ride now, then? My stomach is getting anxious."

"What say you, Legolas?" Aragorn asked. "In dark times, should we not divert our minds from woeful thoughts and allow friends to raise us from despair?"

Legolas, who was silent and distracted, started at this intrusion into his thoughts. "An excellent notion," he agreed, heaving Gimli on Arod. "To the Shire, then!"

They rode at a slower pace for their horses sakes as now no haste was needed. Stopping for the night near the White Downs, they sat in quiet contemplation over the days events. Legolas did not sleep that night but, instead, walked the strange country alone, and gazing up at the stars found some comfort there.

In the morning, they continued their journey and made good time into the Shire. Wide eyed Hobbits gazed out of round windows and doorways at the very sight of so unlikely companions, and whispers began to rise speculating of their destination. "Look! Elves!" could be heard in hushed tones all around.

Upon the turn toward Hobbiton, their worst fears were confirmed, and everyone thought that these strangers were most likely friends of Frodo and Sam. Though Frodo had disappeared several years ago (and very suspiciously, too, the Hobbits say), Sam's good nature and kind disposition made him liked by everyone despite his peculiar past concerning his wayward travels.

Dismounting Arod, Legolas lifted Gimli off and together they, along with Aragorn, stepped up the slate steps to the round green door of Bag End. Gimli could hardly contain his laughter as he knocked loudly upon the door. It opened to reveal a very surprised Hobbit.

"Why it's Gimli, it is! And Aragorn and Legolas, too! My word, what a treat this is! I had not expected to see such friends today! Come in, come in! My word...Rosie! Rosie, come and see who has visited us. Why, it's the King of Gondor himself, an Elf Prince, and a Dwarf Lord, and that should please you!"

Rosie came in, bright eyed and rosy cheeked, with a baby in her arms. "My lords," she said, flushed, and attempted a deep curtsy for the king.

"Nay," Aragorn said, kneeling before her, "you must not bow, my lady. I come here not as a king, but as a friend."

"And heartily glad we are to see you all, make no mistake. This here is our daughter, Elanor," Sam said, taking his flaxen-haired babe from Rosie.

"Ah, the sun-star flower!" Legolas said, brushing a wee golden curl off her face. "And she is very like."

"Oh, she don't take after me, that's for sure and certain!" Sam laughed. "But what a poor host I am, leaving you standing in the doorway like this. Come in! Come in! Are you hungry? Supper is not far off, is it Rosie? She's the best cook, she is! Never tasted the like before. Pardon my speaking, Legolas, for your Elvish fare is good, but naught to be compared with good Hobbit cooking, I always say."

"I am all anticipation," Legolas said, smiling as Sam led them into the living room and into comfy, warm chairs, large enough even for Legolas and Aragorn. "Indeed, I have long heard tales of Hobbit feasts and am anxious to sample for myself."

"You won't care for it above your own, I expect. One hobbit's porridge is another hobbit's pigswill, as me old gaffer used to say," Sam said as he stoked the fire. "But what a shame you did not come two days ago! Merry and Pippin were here. Oh! How long do you mean to stay? Perhaps we can go and visit them!"

"I would not think," Aragorn said, "that a trip to the Shire would be complete without seeing Merry and Pippin."

Sam smiled and was so overjoyed at the thought of them all being together again, like old times. Then his heart felt a familiar pang that Frodo was not there to enjoy it all with them. Sometimes it felt as though he were merely in another room of the hole, and they just kept missing each other.

Supper was bountiful and hearty, and though Legolas did prefer the delicate subtleties of high Elvish food, he kept his comments to himself. In the evening, after Elanor had been laid to sleep, they all gathered around the fire and told Rosie many war stories that showed Sam as the hero. His ears turned pink with all the generous attention, but Rosie turned to him, surprised and awed. "Oh, this is wonderful, this is. Why have you never told me of these things, Sam? And you, the fine talker you are and all..."

Shrugging his shoulders, Sam replied, "In looking back on it, it seems nearly mad that we did it at all. Bad times they were, but it don't seem nearly so bad now that I'm warm and safe back in the Shire with you, Rosie. Didn't see the point of bringing it up, is all. Besides, these fellers would have you believe I'm some sort of hero, which I ain't. I was merely following Gandalf's orders is all. They exaggerate."

"We do no such thing!" Gimli said, boisterously, with a twinkle in his eye and his hand on his smoking pipe. "I would not have you believe him for a second, Lady Gamgee. He was as brave and as stouthearted as any dwarf, and that is saying something."

Their merry chatter drifted into the wee hours of the morning before all stumbled off to their beds, save Legolas. He, instead, chose the quiet nighttime murmur of crickets and star-filled sky so he could be alone with his thoughts. He wondered how Mithryn fared, and if she, too, was staring into the heavens above, and thinking of him. Was Culúril keeping out of mischief, and would Haldof be able to keep hold of his temper during Mithryn's hearing? These are the things that consumed his mind until, finally, with the aid of the cricket's gentle song, he fell peacefully to sleep atop of Bag End.

"Elf..." a gruff voice called through the dark nothingness. "Legolas, you have overslept and it is time to wake!"

Awareness dawning, Legolas woke to see Gimli's bearded face up close to his.

"Wake up, you slumbering stone!" Gimli said with a smile.

Sitting up, Legolas rubbed his tired eyes. "What hour is it?"

"Not yet noon, but Sam and Rosie have already dined thrice! Some gobbledygook about breakfast, second breakfast and elevensies. I declare, these Hobbits never stop eating!"

"Why did you not wake me?" Legolas said, rising. His face was slightly scarlet. It was extremely rare for an elf to oversleep.

"Aragorn would hear none of it, and thus we let you sleep; however, we are to ride to Buckland today. Sam worries about arriving in time for supper, and so, we must soon be off."

They were quick to prepare, and after giving Rosie and Elanor a quick kiss farewell, Sam was raised to Aragorn's steed, and they were off. Word had quickly spread through Hobbiton that the King of Gondor, himself, was visiting Sam, but few believed it. Upon seeing the dark figure with long hair and bearded face, none thought him grand enough to be a king, and said so. "If he is the King of Gondor," an old, toothless Hobbit said at the Green Dragon the night of their arrival, "than I am the Queen!"

"Aye," a younger Hobbit replied after much laughter. "Where are all his servants, I ask you? Hasn't got none, has he? And his crown! If he's the king, he'd be wearing a crown, wouldn't he?"

The other Hobbits could find no fault in this reasoning, and merely surmised that this stranger, with a dwarf and an elf for company no less, was nothing more than an acquaintance made upon Sam's mysterious journey. But certainly not the King of Gondor! Upon their departure from Hobbiton, and seeing Sam ride upon the same horse as that immense man, whispers again flew, but still no more sense nor reason could they discover, and soon their conversations drifted to wild tales of Frodo and Bilbo when good topics of conversation became scarce.

The company had ridden quickly east and up Ferry Lane to the riverbank. There they stepped up to the dock where Bucklebury Ferry, the large, flat ferry-boat, was waiting.

"Boats!" Gimli grumbled, staring at it with disfavour. "Is there no other way round this river?"

"Aye," Sam said as Aragorn gently lifted him down, "twenty miles from here if I remember Merry correctly. The Brandywine Bridge. We could go that way if you'd really prefer it. It'd mean we'd be late for supper, o' course..."

"We have time," Aragorn said, "but forty miles is long indeed. Are you so fearful of boats, Master Dwarf, that you cannot make this an exception?"

Aragorn had said the magic words, for immediately, Gimli puffed himself up, exclaiming, "Fearful?! I?! I assure you that this Dwarf fears nothing, least of all a tiny boat!" And with that he stepped indignantly onto the ferry, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest.

Legolas could think of several things that had caused fear in Gimli during their many adventures, but was wiser than to point them out at such a sensitive moment. Following Gimli's move, the rest drew their horses aboard, and Aragorn, using the long pole, gently pushed off from the shore.

Gimli appeared a bit green, but said nothing. Their ride did not feel long, however, and they soon, much to Gimli's relief, were back upon dry land again. They rode over hills and passed more Hobbit holes, meeting curious stares once again but never heeding them. Sam skillfully directed them to Crickhollow, home to Merry and Pippin, and soon they were on their very doorstep. Warm light filled the windows and the house seemed alive with cheeriness.

A loud crash was heard within, and Pippin's hysterical shrieks. "Merry! What happened to the mushrooms?!"

"I don't know!" Merry's voice said, as the visitors tried with desperation to stifle their laughter.

"You burnt them!"

"No! No! They're just a little...uh..."

"Burnt!" Pippin exclaimed indignantly.

Gimli could stand it no longer. He knocked on the door, and Pippin's voice, though attempting a whisper, could clearly be heard through the open window. "Merry, who do you think that could be?"

"I don't know," Merry replied, in an obvious attempt to be quiet but failed miserably.

"Shall we pretend we're not at home?" Pippin suggested. "It is supper time, after all, and now we don't even have mushrooms!"

"It is too late for that, young Hobbit," Gimli said boisterously, "for I believe all of Buckland knows you two are at home!"

The door immediately flew open, and Merry and Pippin stood in the doorway, pleased as pleased could be! "Well, throw me in a pot and serve me for supper!" Merry exclaimed, and all exchanged happy hugs. "What adventure brings you all to the Shire?"

"That," Aragorn said, ducking as he stepped over the threshold, "is a conversation better said over a plate of supper. Now, I understand we were not expected. Is there enough for all?"

Pippin smiled brightly. "There shall be in but a few minutes, I promise you! But how fine this is! When we had visited Sam the other day, we said how we missed you all, and wondered how you were."

Merry made their guests comfortable beside the hearth, and soon the ale was being passed around while Pippin worked feverishly at the stove. Proudly, he served warm loaves of sourdough bread just out of the oven and lathed with sweet butter; a huge sugar cured ham with rich marmalade sauce; three crisp, roasted chickens with herb stuffing and hot giblet gravy; seven broiled rainbow trout from the morning's catch at the Brandywine River; plump carrots, green beans and baked potatoes, all from the garden patch; and tangy pink rhubarb pies, cherry custards, and tart lemon tarts with real meringue on top for dessert...but sadly, no mushrooms.

When the wine had been drunk and the plates cleaned, the subject of their visit arose again. Legolas was grateful that Aragorn had not given him opportunity to answer. The words would simply be too painful to speak. Upon hearing that his wife was deathly ill, and had gone to Valinor, they stared at him with faces full of sympathy and awe.

"But," Pippin said naively, "she will be alright, won't she? I mean, they'll be able to heal her there. Won't they?"

Legolas merely shrugged his shoulders, "I do not know."

"Don't worry," Merry said, tenderly. "She will. Perhaps Frodo will see her. Dear Frodo! I wonder how he fills his days in that far off land?"

Legolas had been glad of the change in subject. It still hurt too much to even think about Mithryn's absence. He could not decide what was worse: that he would be apart from her for so long, and perhaps even forever if they could not cure her, or that she would be rejected merely to come back and die. Instead, he banished all thoughts of her to a quiet corner of his soul to be visited later, and concentrated on the conversation at hand.

They stayed four days with Merry and Pippin before goodbyes had to be said. Much to Gimli's dislike, they again crossed the Brandywine River using the ferry-boat, and dropped Sam off at Bag End, reluctantly declining the offer of Rosie's "magnificent" supper.

"That is kind of you, Sam," Aragorn replied, setting Sam back upon the earth, "but I fear we must be on our way. We must rendezvous with the White Ship that waits for no one."

Sam accepted that, and once again, farewells were given along with promises to see each other again soon. The three did not stop that night for rest, but rode onwards to the Grey Havens, and reached it before dawn. No ship sat at the dock, and the wagon, which had carried Mithryn, lay untouched. None had been there since their absence. They set up a watch for the night in case the ship arrived early. Legolas took the first shift. Now that they were here, he could not rest without first knowing Mithryn's fate. He stared incessantly at the sea, eyes keen for any sighting of a ship. Gulls flew and cried overhead, yet he paid them no heed lest he miss something on the endless blue gulf.

The sun rose, and Aragorn awoke. "Come, Legolas. You should sleep. I will take the next watch."

Yet, Legolas could not avert his eyes for even a moment. "Nay, I cannot rest. Not until I know. 'Tis mad, really. I long to see her again, yet I also wish her to be saved. There is no logic in my desire."

"There is logic enough," Aragorn said as he sat beside Legolas. "It is natural that you wish to be near the one you love, and natural, also, that you will miss her. But, if she is not returned, think of your future, Legolas! How I envy you! You will have a long hereafter together which other lovers can only crave, but never have."

"If she is not rejected," Legolas pointed out.

"Aye, if," Aragorn conceded. "For now, we shall simply wait...and see."

The sun moved sluggishly across the sky, and Gimli finally awoke and began to prepare a belated breakfast from the provisions given to them by Merry and Pippin. Still no sign had been seen, and it was only after Aragorn's profuse prodding and nudging that Legolas consented to eat. He had not the appetite, but could stand Aragorn's goading no longer.

Daylight died, and still no ship had come. "Legolas," Gimli said, as gently as his gruff voice would allow, "she is not coming. All is well with her else she would have been brought back. Shall we return home?"

"Nay," Legolas said, "not yet. The ship may have been delayed. Only think if she were to arrive after our departure and there be none here to help her! Can we not but wait another day? She still may come..."

"Aye," Gimli said kindly, pitying his friend and his heart that was breaking. "Of course. We shall stay as long as need be."

The second day passed like the first. Legolas could not tear his tired eyes from the constant waves and the far horizon, yet, still no ship came. Upon the third morning, Legolas resigned himself to the fact that Mithryn had been admitted into Valinor. She would never return to Middle Earth.

"Alright, my friends," Legolas said, feeling defeated, though he did not understand why. "Let us return to Ithilien. There is nothing for us here now."

"Do not be downcast, Legolas," Gimli said. "She is safe now and in very capable hands! Think of all who are there who love her and will protect her so that you will one day be reunited. As you once said, 'A year to an Elf is but a day'. The years will pass quickly and before you know it, it will be time for you to fulfill your promise to her. Fear not! She will be waiting for you."

Placing a grateful hand on Gimli's short shoulder, Legolas smiled, and said, "You are right, Gimli."

"Right?" Gimli said. "Of course! I am always right!"

Smiling, Legolas said, "She would not wish me to be melancholy."

"Certainly not! Now, Legolas! It is a long road back to Ithilien. Shall we not have one of your songs along the way? But, I would not recommend a sad one. Let us have a merry tune. Shall we?"

**Author's Note:** _One of my all time favourite chapters! Did you like it too? Let me know, and review!_


	44. Chapter XLIV The Scent of Almonds

**CHAPTER 44**

**THE SCENT OF ALMONDS**

Ten years had passed with the sailing of Mithryn, and for each day of those years, Legolas thought about family, his child, and most of all, his wife. He could not know for certain how she fared in Valinor, and only hoped that she was well and happy.

It had been difficult for him to believe that so much time had passed, for it seemed as though he had merely blinked his eyes and the time was gone. The truth, however, could clearly be seen on the faces of those close to him. Gimli had begun to grey, and how the children from Minas Tirith grew!

In the summer of the thirteenth year of the Fourth Age, Celebwen approached Legolas in the fields at dusk. The sun, setting brilliantly in the sky, showered the heavens with sprays of pinks and purples. "Prince Legolas, I hope I do not disturb you."

"Not at all, Celebwen," Legolas replied. "What may I do for you?"

"We thought you aught to know. During your recent absence in the north, a decision had been made among us. Within the week, we are going back to Eryn Lasgalen as we all wish to sail to Valinor."

"We? Surely not all of you?" Legolas asked.

"Our time has come. We did what we set out to do. I had not the opportunity to see this land before the terror of Sauron," she said, gazing at the beauteous fields and valleys surrounding her, "but I know that it could not have been so fair before. This is our final gift to this world. I hope these mortals will treasure it."

"That is my hope as well," Legolas said. He knew and completely understood his elven friend's point of view. They had achieved so much in such a short time. The rivers and waters were now clean and ran free of the polluted filth the Orcs had

caused and were once again filled with numerous varieties of fish. Trees grew in plenty which bred lush saplings, and birds of various colour and song filled their branches and reared young of their own. Slowly, the earth began to recuperate from all those years of rape and abuse.

"Shall you...not come also?" Celebwen gently inquired.

Legolas, however, shook his head resolutely. "The sea calls, but for now I shall have to ignore its allure. My time had not yet come. Nevertheless, I will journey with you back home. I should like to see Galamed again."

"Aye, I am sure he would wish to see you too...before his passing."

"Galamed passes also?" Legolas said, taken aback.

"We all sail, Legolas. I am sorry." Inwardly, Legolas criticized himself. Of course he knew this day had to come.

In the days following, the Elves packed their desired possessions, and word of their intentions wound its way to King Elessar's ear. In an effort to show gratitude, though he realized it was not nearly enough, he threw a bounteous festivity of oliphaunt proportions in Minas Tirith. Young and old, rich and poor were invited, and all gratefully paid homage to the Elves' generous and noble contribution to the splendorous rebirth of their homeland.

Legolas had participated in the events, but it did not go unnoticed to Gimli's keen eye that the elf seemed far from merry. Standing alone on the balcony at the Hall of Kings, staring into the twilight sky, Legolas had not much heart for celebrating.

"Well, well!" Gimli bellowed, a pint of beer in his hand. "So this is where you've scampered off to! I can't think why when there's such a feast to be had! How the Hobbits would enjoy such a party, but, it is just as well. I daresay they would eat up half the food, the delightful creatures, and lick the barrels dry!"

"Indeed," Legolas said quietly, still not looking at him.

"Come, come, Legolas. This will not do! It is not as though you are being left behind, for it is your choice to stay. You are staying," Gimli said, suddenly struck by an uncertain fear, "are you not?"

"Aye."

"Well then," Gimli said, suddenly much happier, "be cheerful! I do not go anywhere."

For the first time, Legolas turned, and Gimli was relieved to see that he was smiling. "For that I am thankful," Legolas said. "You are a true friend, Gimli."

"And a truer one you'll never find. That is a Dwarf, for you. Strong of heart, arm, and stomach are we Dwarves."

"I shall be going to Eryn Lasgalen for a while, but I do promise to return. There are those there to whom I must say farewell. It will be the last time I shall ever journey there."

"Are you in want of company? Dwarvish company, I mean."

"Nay, thank you, Gimli," Legolas said, appreciatively. "I shall not be long."

"Very well then," Gimli said, after taking a strong swig of his beer. "But do not tarry too long. Aragorn would worry."

Their journey to Eryn Lasgalen had lasted a little more than two weeks at the speed they travelled. They approached the southern tip of Eryn Lasgalen where Celeborn's realm began, only to find it empty of people. There was no guard, and intricately carved houses in the treetops stood empty. They passed through it not meeting a living soul, save birds and beasts that at times scurried across their path.

Five days passed within the forest, and still no elf had been met. When finally they had reached the well-known border of King Galamed's realm, they were surprised to find it guardless. There was, therefore, no melodious call of the iavin to announce their arrival, but they travelled onwards to the palace in eerie, unfamiliar solitude. There, finally, a welcome face was met.

"Anardil!" the travelling elves exclaimed and rushed up to her, embracing their friend and queen. When Legolas had at last squeezed his way to her side, he eagerly asked, "Anardil, where are the guards? I saw none posted as we crossed the border."

"They seemed unnecessary," she replied, smiling, "as we have met no enemies since the fall of Sauron. Besides, Legolas, there are but nine of us left here."

"Nine?" Legolas repeated. "Is that all? But, there were hundreds!"

"Aye, but slowly, they all journeyed to Valinor. Come! Galamed must see you, for he will be so pleased that you have arrived."

Still in shock that so many had already left, he followed her into the palace where Galamed strode down the corridor toward them.

"Legolas!" he exclaimed, giving his elder brother a strong embrace. "We have waited long for your return to these woods! Do you leave with us?" he asked, and his words were full of hope.

"Nay, I fear not, Galamed," Legolas replied, sadly. "I am still bound by commitments here."

"My poor brother!" Galamed said, wrapping an arm around him and guiding him to the great hall where every elf in the kingdom was convening. "But I shall not entreat you, for a see you carry a heavy heart."

"Could you deliver some letters for me?" Legolas asked.

"With pleasure. Ah, it feels so strange to be leaving here, knowing I shall never return. I am ready for adventure, however."

"I hope I do not disturb..." Anardil said, walking up to the pair.

"Not at all," Galamed reassured her, and placed a welcoming arm around her waist.

"Legolas," she said, continuing, "I had wondered where you would feel the most comfortable. Would you care for your old room in the palace, or the bedchamber which you and Mithryn shared? When our numbers dwindled, all moved into the palace to be closer together. However, if you would wish..."

"May I have Mithryn's and my bedchamber? If it is not too much trouble..." Legolas asked.

"Not at all. I shall have it prepared at once," she said before stepping off to make the necessary arrangements.

"She thinks of everything," Galamed said, watching her leave. "I have no mind for detail, but she always knows what will make our guests comfortable."

"Do you have guests often?"

"Elves wandering through, mostly. We have had a few Dwarves to stay at times. Aye, it will be difficult to leave. Listen to me!" he said, shaking off his melancholy. "Have you eaten? You must be half starved after such a long journey."

A fine, Elvish meal was the very thing he needed, Legolas thought, and soon, in boisterous spirits, they all convened in the kitchens and began work on a sumptuous feast. Legolas had been busy kneading aromatic herb dough when Anardil told him that his room was ready for him.

"Allow me to finish this for you," she said amiably, and he, gratefully, let her take the soft dough. "Go on," she encouraged.

After washing his hands, he made his way out of the palace and into the cool air of the summer night. The sky was black and a silvery cloud shrouded the moon. He needed no light, however. He knew his way well enough.

Stepping up the spiral staircase, he passed rooms that had long been shut up. His bedchamber was at the top, and reaching it, he slowly opened the door. It opened with a slight creak due to lack of use. Inside, however, the room was airy and gleaming. Candles were lit around the room giving it a soft, warm glow. His deeply carved, massive oak bed sat where it had always sat, made with fresh bedding, and also, as in days past, cheerful wildflowers had been placed on the dresser. His belongings had been brought up and carefully put away for him.

He opened one of his long dresser drawers. How strange it felt to touch an old possession and have it still feel familiar! The first drawer was opened to reveal nothing. All of his necessary things had been taken with him to Ithilien. Each drawer opened proved to be like the first. Empty. The last and lowest drawer, however, was different. A rich, velvety blue cloth lay inside it. His curiosity got the better of him. Slowly and carefully pulling back the many folds of the fabric, a thin, dried circlet was revealed, and Legolas knew instantly what it was. "Why, it is the necklet Mithryn made for me all those years ago!" He held the strand in his hands, and though fragile and faded, upon lifting it up to his nose, some of its scent remained. The ghostly memories of that long-ago day came rushing back to him: the sunlight cascading upon her fiery hair, the taste of ripe berries on his tongue, and the sweet scent of almonds.

The following morning, Galamed and Legolas spent a great deal of time walking in the woods together chattering on about the past and also about the days to come. They visited every sight that was to be seen in the kingdom, including the sad, burnt remains of Belegaladh, their beloved tree that had been destroyed by orc fires.

But lo! As Legolas rounded the bend, he saw plainly from its charred remnants a sapling rising from the ashes. "Ai, what is this?" Legolas exclaimed, kneeling down on the soft earth and tenderly stroking the sapling. Many large leaves grew upon it, and Legolas could see that it was of the same breed that Belegaladh had been.

"Aye," Galamed said, happily, "I thought you would be pleased to see that. I had not come here for a long time, but then, suddenly decided to visit it one day for I was in very low spirits. Many of our kinsman had just left, you see. It had only just sprung from the ground, a tiny shoot, and how it warmed my heart to see it! Even here, we see that there is no death; only rebirth. I plan to take it with me to Valinor and plant it there for future generations to play in and, especially, where they may sit and contemplate as we did for centuries past. What do you think?"

"Belegaladh! Alive still!" he thought, but words would not come. In Legolas's mind's eye he could see Culúril climbing in a massive, gnarled tree with Mithryn gazing upward and calling out for their son to be careful, followed by Culúril's laughing reply that elves never fall.

Galamed repeated his question and Legolas smiled, saying, "I think it an excellent notion, Brother."

Galamed smiled, and said, "Come, for there is still more to see! There is one last sight which you have not seen that I know you will admire."

Together they walked off, Galamed leading the way. They had not walked far, however, when Legolas suddenly stopped in his tracks. A sweet scent caught his nose, though his eyes could not detect the source. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let his senses guide him, and travelled a little way to a clearing in the forest where showers of sunlight streamed in, washing all within it with light and warmth. There, neath the golden orb's loving gaze, was a carpet of snow-white flowers, and the sweet scent of almonds filled the air around them.

"Ulmaria!" Legolas exclaimed. "Meadowsweet! Why, it has never grown here before! Mithryn tried to plant some but was unsuccessful."

"Or so we thought, for we had not attempted it. A root or two must have taken, and see how it has thrived!"

Reaching down, Legolas took a few blooms and leaves, inhaled their fragrance, and gently placed them in his doublet.

"Could you take some, as well, to Valinor? Mithryn would be so happy to have some, I know it."

"Of course, Brother," Galamed said. "I shall tell her you sent it."

Legolas awoke with a start, and for a moment, he did not know where he was. All was dark, but his elvish eyes could make out shapes in his shadowy bedchamber. He gazed at the diamond shaped leaded window as all came back to him. He was back in his home, in his bed. Was Mithryn beside him? If he were to turn over, would she be there sleeping soundly? His heart began to race. Perhaps it had all been a dream! Some horrible nightmare... He would simply turn over and find her there, and he would have no more cause to worry, no more reason to miss her. How he prayed! How he hoped that she would only be there. Strengthening his courage, he closed his eyes and rolled over. "Dear Elbereth, pray let her be here," he whispered inside his head. He opened his eyes to see an empty space beside him where she used to lay. It had not been a dream, and he was still alone in the dark. He rolled back over and wept silently into the night.

At dusk the following day, while stars overhead made their debut performance of the night, the elves gathered round once more, but this time to say goodbye to just one: Legolas. He found it curious, for it was always him saying farewell, and going off on some adventure. Now it was different. He was being left behind.

"Your letters and gifts are stored safely, Legolas," Galamed said as the elves began to depart slowly on their silvery-white ponies. "Our kindred will be happy to receive them."

"I hope you find them all well," Legolas said, though his mind gravitated more to one person.

"Fear not, Legolas. I am sure she is alive. Well," he said, sighing, "it is time. Odd, is it not, Legolas? You had not wanted to be king, but as the last prince left, you must be. I hereby declare you King Legolas of this realm!" Galamed said, removing his father's crown of silver from his head and placing it on Legolas's.

"I am a King with no subjects," Legolas said, jestingly.

"But a King nonetheless; the last king of Eryn Lasgalen. I shall always look up to you, Big Brother," Galamed said sincerely. "Take care, Legolas. We wait for your arrival."

They embraced each other and Legolas replied, "And so with you, Galamed. Farewell!"

Galamed joined the train of elves and ponies, and they began to sing the familiar songs of partings and of Valinor. Legolas stood entranced as he watched the last remnants of his kindred vanish into the distance until only their silvery, lilting voices could be heard filling the wood...and slowly fading away.

It would be a very lonesome night. He wandered the palace, peeking into dark rooms, with only a candle to guide him through the empty fortress. It grew cold, and there were no comforts to be had, not even once had a fire been set in his father's study. He sat at the same table he had sat at many years ago and recalled how his brothers and he used to crowd around it with their Father, having happy and heated discussions alike. Now, it was only he, and they were all gone.

Suddenly his keen ears pricked up. He had definitely heard footsteps in the corridor. He cursed himself. His weapons were unreachable, tucked away in his bedchamber. He glanced about the room and saw, dusty and forgotten, a bow and quiver in a corner. In one swift movement he had strapped the quiver securely across his chest and his bow was armed. He slipped through the open door, and moved stealthily down the dark passage.

The creature, who or whatever it was, was steadily drawing closer, though recklessly making a great deal of noise, Legolas observed. When close enough to kill it, Legolas threateningly called out, "Halt or I will shoot you! State your business here!"

"I had merely come," said an oddly familiar gruff voice, "to see how a very stupid elf, who happens to be a very dear friend of mine, was enduring while his family all left him."

"Gimli!" Legolas said, abandoning the bow and dropping it to the floor. He rushed over, and kneeling down, embraced his friend who was laughing fairly heartily.

"Shoot me, would you?" Gimli said, chuckling. "A friend as dear as I?"

"I had not known it was you."

"Nay, you have not the night eyes of a dwarf, of course, though whom did you think it, I wonder? Regretfully, there are no orcs left to slaughter, so what enemy could it be?"

"You merely caught me by surprise. I had not expected to meet anyone here, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of loud, marching footsteps..."

"Tip toe! I was tip toeing, I was! I did not want to startle you, much good my efforts did you."

Legolas let out a hearty laugh. "Come, Gimli. It is chilly in this corridor. There is a fire in my father's study, and food and wine besides. It will be much more merry with you here, now."

"Of course," Gimli said, following Legolas through the maze of passageways. "A party is not a party without a dwarf present."

The next morning, Legolas took one last look at his bedchamber, faded flowers still on the bureau, and closed the door.

"We need not go already," Gimli said at the melancholy look on Legolas's face.

"Nay, there is no point in lingering. I cannot remain here all alone. I fear I would die." He strode up to the palace wall and gently placed his hand on the cold stone of the mountainside, and whispered elvish words that Gimli was struggling to hear, but missed. All at once, a giant bolder moved magically and sealed the entrance to the palace. Passing by, Gimli thought, one would never suspect that the palace of a great king once existed there. It would be locked, hidden, forever.

Legolas strode over, placing a gentle hand on Gimli's shoulder. "Are you ready, Gimli? Shall we return to Ithilien?"

"Aye!" said Gimli fervently. "Let us ride!"

"Ride? But you always hated riding!"

"At the time of your leaving Minas Tirith, Arwen's time had come."

"Her time? You mean, the child was being born?"

"Children, for twin girls were born unto Arwen and Aragorn on the very day you left. Have you no wish to see them?"

"Very much!" Legolas exclaimed, and whistled, calling Arod to him. "Let us ride, then, Gimli, at your bidding. I am glad you came to fetch me, though I know I asked you not to."

"I knew you would be," Gimli said, as he was lifted onto Arod. Legolas climbed on, and they were off, leaving his empty realm behind them. The sun shone, the wind blew, Meadowsweet grew in the glade and swayed in the breeze, but none were there to smell its sweet scent of almonds.

**Author's Note:** _Did this chapter make you want to weep? It did me. Please review!_


	45. Chapter XLV Aragorn Takes His Leave

**CHAPTER 45**

**ARAGORN TAKES HIS LEAVE**

Legolas had felt the passing of time as never before in those years he spent in Ithilien after returning from Eryn Lasgalen now so many years ago: seeing young mortals wither into old age, children grow into adulthood, and life beginning anew in the glow of new babes' eyes.

After the deaths of their wives, Merry and Pippin had come to Minas Tirith and spent their remaining years there until, finally, their passing: Merry in the year 1489, and Pippin in 1493. Gimli sighed and grew sad each time he thought of them.

"Remember how Merry slew that winged beast carrying that Nazgûl?" he would say fondly, and then wipe away a tear. "And Pippin, how he used to laugh? Ah, how I miss them!"

Gimli, Legolas noticed, had aged also. His beard was now snow-white, holding no colour as it once had, and he walked more slowly, complaining of sore muscles and joints. Legolas aided him as best as Gimli's pride would allow. "Now I'll have none of that, Master Elf!" Gimli bellowed as Legolas attempted to carry him up a very steep flight of stairs. "I am no maiden for you to be carrying, I'll thank ye! My legs have borne me well these years, and shall do until I drop down dead!"

Aragorn, too, had been unable to hide from time. His beard and hair were steel-grey, and his face bore all the wrinkles of a man who had lived a happy life.

In March of 1541, however, King Aragorn's health deteriorated, and all of his family and friends were summoned close to him. He had asked to see each one individually, and Gimli had gone first. He had entered the dimly lit room strong and brave, and exited it crying like an old woman. "He asked for thee next," Gimli sobbed to Legolas, who rose and entered the room.

The curtains were drawn, and there was little light, save from one flickering candle at Aragorn's bedside. A stool had been placed in front of it which Legolas sat upon, and placed a gentle hand on his dying friend's arm. "Aragorn, you called for me?"

"Aye," Aragorn replied, his breath slow and hoarse, his head too heavy to lift off his pillow. "My life is ending, dear friend. My time has passed. It is Eldarion's time now."

"Nay, Aragorn, you must stay. Think of Arwen! Do you not wish to stay with her?"

"I do think of Arwen," he said, sadly. "I know not if there is hope for us in the hereafter. One knows not what lies beyond this life. Nay, it is time, and I have called you here to say farewell. You have been such a true friend to me. I am not blind to what it has cost you to stay."

"Mithryn said, long ago, that I would not regret the time that I would spend here, and I have not, Aragorn. You have been a valued friend to me as well. It has been a joy sharing these years with you and Gimli."

"It has, but that time is at an end. When I am dead, consider your promise fulfilled. You have done much for my people and I thank you from one king to another." Aragorn grasped Legolas with what seemed to be the last strength in his hand and said, "No more waiting, Legolas! Go to her! She and you have both been patient long enough." His hand fell back onto the bed, and he said, "I have not much time left. Could you please send in my children to me?"

"Aye, certainly, old friend," Legolas said, rising quickly to fulfill the dying king's last request of him.

The elf stepped out onto the balcony and into the cool air of a dwindling autunm. Down below, thousands of people waited, faces fixed on the terrace above; and with burning candles held fast in their hands, they waited anxiously for word of their king.

Gimli stepped out, his eyes red with lack of sleep and tears. "What did he say to you?"

"He told me to sail to Mithryn after he has passed," Legolas replied, looking up into the starry sky above, "and I mean to take his advice."

"You are going to leave too, then?" Gimli asked, his eyes saddening even more.

"Mithryn has waited long for me, and Culúril as well. Long have I wondered what he looks like. Has he red hair still? Has he my skill with a bow? What sort of elf has he grown into? These are things I have long wondered, Gimli. I am anxious to discover the answers. It is now time." Gimli hung his head, saddened. Legolas stared at him. He had not meant to cause his dear friend so much grief. "Will you not go with me, Gimli? It is a long journey, and one not to be travelled alone."

"Nay, I thank ye. Valinor is a place not meant for dwarves, and you could not coax me back onto one of those death-contraption boats again for all the gold in Moria!" They laughed half laughs considering the circumstances, but then Gimli added tentatively, "You will not be leaving in a hurry, I hope?"

Legolas had no opportunity to answer, however, as suddenly, Eldarion stepped out onto the terrace, the winged crown of kings upon his head, his eyes filled with tears. He carried a large lantern in his hand, and standing at the balcony, he held it up high for all those below to see. The people waited with pain in their hearts, as did Legolas and Gimli, and then Eldarion, upon extinguishing the flame, announced, sadly, the death of his father. The crowd below let out a gasp, and cries of lament filled the air and travelled far, heralding their grief and loss. Gimli, without shame, grabbed hold of Legolas and wept openly. Only two remain, Legolas thought, as he, too, mourned openly the loss of a dear friend. Two of nine. How very sad.

The funeral of King Elessar the Great, was unlike anything ever before seen in Gondor, with masses of people from near and far, showers of flowers, and a nation weeping at the loss of their beloved king. The following week brought the coronation of King Eldarion, and the people's spirits were renewed slightly as King Elessar lived on in the eyes of his son. All knew he would be a fair and just king like his father.

Eldarion had specifically sought out Legolas after his coronation, and at long last found him at water's edge humming a melancholy tune to himself. As the man strode near, it struck Legolas how Eldarion had grown through the years. He looked so much like Aragorn but had the eyes of his mother. What a man he had become, and he wondered if Culúril, being but a few years older than Eldarion, was at all alike.

"Legolas, at last. You are a difficult elf to find."

"I am sorry, King Eldarion," Legolas said, rising. "I had not known I was sought."

"Pray, do not address me as King. You are like an uncle to me."

Legolas smiled, "As you wish."

"The reason for my seeking you out is that before my father's death, he told me of your situation. He had few words left at that time and Mother related the rest to me afterward. I would like very much to aid you if I can."

"Aid me? How?"

"By building you a ship that will carry you across the sea to your wife and son."

"I know not what to say," Legolas said, deeply touched.

"If you wish it, I shall have it built, and can also arrange for you to learn how to sail such a ship."

"Aye, I wish it! Thank you gladly, Eldarion," Legolas said.

"No thanks are needed, Legolas. In truth, I shall be sorry to say farewell to you, as will Mother. I know what this means for her, your sailing. She talks of returning to Lórien now that Father is gone, but I greatly wish she would stay. Would you mind, or would it be asking too much...could you speak to her for me?"

"Aye," Legolas said. "Of course."

The Lady Arwen, unlike Legolas, was not difficult to be found. Night and day she stayed beside her husband's grave, unwilling to be separated from him even though she knew his soul had passed on.

All had unfolded just as her father predicted. Her last moments with her father were difficult, and even though many years had now passed, she recalled his prescient words with a great pain. She had asked him of her future, and he unwillingly told her. He spoke of a happy time, though short in the eyes of an elf. After Aragorn's death, there would be no more happiness, for her heart would break and become an empty chasm that could never be filled. He spoke of a mourning pain and of a solace sought in Lórien, only to discover no comfort there. Arwen wept remembering.

"Arwen," Legolas said as he stepped near. "I am sorry to interrupt you in your sorrow, but it is not good to be alone at this time. Why are not your daughters with you or a handmaiden?"

"I sent them all away," she said, woefully. "I wished to be alone with my husband."

Legolas stared at her, and he was overcome with pity. A piteous thing, a person who could not be consoled, Legolas thought, but in Arwen, he saw himself as he once was. Perhaps his time to mourn was still to come if Mithryn was dead in Valinor, but that was something he could not think of. She was alive. She had to be alive! The very thought merely inflamed his heated desire to sail to her. Why, if he had a boat at that moment, there would have been no consideration. He would have sailed away in a heartbeat.

"My son has told me of his plans to have a ship made for you," Arwen said, smiling sadly. "I am happy for you, Legolas. I know how difficult it has been for you being away from your wife and son."

"Eldarion has also told me of your desire to return to Lórien. Why do you wish to go there?"

"It was the birthplace of my mother, and I have many happy memories there."

"None are left there; you will be quite alone. Would you not rather stay with your children and allow them to comfort you?"

Arwen turned to Legolas, the black shroud over her head falling to her shoulders. Her eyes welled and burst. How beautiful she is, Legolas thought. Though turning mortal, she had not aged a day. No mark of age blemished her face, but in her eyes she kept the secret of her long life.

"You cannot understand, Legolas. There is no comfort to be had. Not in the starry sky, nor the embrace from my children. My heart calls me to Lothlórien, though I know it empty and barren. I know no consolation shall be found there, but that is where I must go until the last of my years have been spent."

Legolas knew not what to do. He simply embraced her, and said, "You know what is best. Would you like me to deliver any messages for you? Perhaps to your father?"

Arwen had not sent any messages to him in the past, but this was her last and final chance. She could not say no.

The following day, Arwen left with no goodbyes said. Her children were grieved, for to them they had now lost both parents. A short note had been left on her bureau for Legolas, instructing him to kindly deliver a letter to Elrond for her. It was unsealed. He knew he should not, but temptation gave way, and he carefully opened the crisp page.

_**Dearest Father,**_

_**All is as you have predicted, and Estel is **__**now gone. I am sorry that our farewell had **__**caused you **_

_**grief, and that my decision had **__**hurt you, but even now, I have no regrets **__**save that I shall never see **_

_**you again, **__**dearest Father. Know that you have three grandchildren, and that they honour and **_

_**respect you. Your lineage lives on in **__**Gondor, and shall do so forever. **__**Again, dear Father, I am **_

_**sorry. I hope you **__**can find it in your heart to one day forgive **__**me.**_

_**Arwen**_

**Author's Note:** _I know, sad again! Please review, as we are almost at an end!_


	46. Chapter XLVI To Valinor And Home

**CHAPTER 46**

**TO VALINOR AND HOME**

Two months of hard labour had been productive indeed and Legolas soon had the ship he had long desired. It was a handsome sloop with a smooth, dove-grey exterior and billowing white sails. Legolas had been far from idle during its construction as every day he studied with the sailors and learned how to master a ship's rigging, and how to harness the fierce wind alone.

When all was finally ready, the lonesome vessel waited patiently in the deep harbour. A grand sendoff was ordered by King Eldarion, and everyone near and far in the kingdom gathered for this historic launching ceremony.

High above in the crowded streets, a tiny girl of five years climbed nimbly onto her grandfather's shoulders which afforded a much better view of the bustling workers, the beautiful, but vaguely sad King Legolas, and the last ship to sail to Valinor, called the "Mithryn of Mirkwood". Looking up at the child, the kindly old man saw in her eyes all the wonder of youth, and smiled, recalling how so very long ago he had gazed at the world with that same wonder and innocence. "Remember this, little Widget, for none will scarcely believe you when you're my age. Only fancy that you'll be able to tell your grandchildren that you saw the very last elf sail to Valinor!"

"Is it very far, Grandfather?" asked the child, not taking her wide eyes off the sailors loading the ship with supplies.

"Who's to say?" the old man replied. "No mortal knows, Dearie, and none ever shall. Legend tells that time between here and there is different, somehow; like magic. So, far and near is all the same. However, little Widget, none know for sure save those who have travelled there."

Legolas, meanwhile, had been on the ship's deck directing the cargo bearers to various locations. When all was loaded, Legolas stepped back down the gangplank to say his final farewell. He waved to the cheering crowd, many of whom were well known to him after his long years in Ithilien. Eldarion waited on the dock along with his sisters and Gimli.

Extending his hand, and grasping Legolas's forearm, Eldarion smiled, but there was a great sadness in his eyes that was unmistakable. This indeed was the end of an era, never to be seen again, and all there knew it. The Fellowship of the Ring was no more, but all of its members lived on in the hearts of those who knew them, and people still talked of Frodo and his plight, and visited the rooms where his infamous Sting was kept, and gingerly touched the still-gleaming shirt of mithril. Children were told of the heroic efforts of each member of the renowned Fellowship of the One Ring, and their unwavering friendship. Many times throughout the years, a child, full of awe, would approach Gimli or Legolas and ask sheepishly, "Did you really help destroy the Ring?" It was, indeed, the end of an era, for once Legolas left, only Gimli would be there to answer the youngsters' questions. And his days were numbered.

"How does one say goodbye forever," Eldarion said, "to a friend so dear? It is very difficult..." He paused to regain control of his voice. "May the Valar give you smooth sailing, Legolas, and may the winds carry you swiftly to your beloved."

"Thank you, my friend," Legolas replied fervently. He then embraced each of Aragorn's daughters, whispering elvish words of parting and blessings to them. At last, he turned to Gimli.

"You are resolved to leave then?" Gimli said, his voice deep and cracking with age.

"Aye, my dear friend," Legolas replied, "it is time. Are you certain that you will not change your mind and come with me? It is a very long journey for one to be travelling alone."

"Nay, I think not," Gimli said. "Boats and dwarves do not go well together."

"As you wish, but know that I shall miss you, my friend, and that I shall never forget you," Legolas said, kneeling down and embracing the wrinkled, elderly dwarf. Gimli let out a great sob, and full-heartedly blew his nose.

Returning to the ship, Legolas drew back the plank; Eldarion then untied the ropes and threw them aboard. Loud cheers and calls of farewell were shouted from all gathered as the boat began to move slowly away from the dock. Legolas was busy letting down the sails when a thunderous bang was heard at the ship's stern. Turning, he saw Gimli sprawled across the grey ship's deck. Rushing to him, Legolas clasped his old friend's arm and helped him to his feet. "Why, Gimli! I am so happy! I had thought you would not sail!"

"Well," Gimli replied, "I could not let you face danger alone in this empty expanse. Besides, the thought of perhaps seeing the Lady Galadriel again was enough to tempt me."

"Ah, now the truth emerges! Fear not, Gimli! When we reach Valinor, you will certainly see the fair Lady again, I assure you. Now, I must finish releasing the sails. Pray, do sit down," Legolas said, waving his hand to the stern of the ship which had been richly furnished with long chairs, soft blankets and cushions, and laid out especially for a star-gazing elf.

Gimli began to walk toward the inviting settee, but the movement of the ship under his feet made him suddenly wish he had not been so hasty. "Legolas," he called out, "we must go back! I fear I have left something upon the dock."

"What is it?" Legolas replied, concernedly.

Gimli burped and his faced turned a shade of green. "My stomach..."

Legolas laughed and walked his friend to the stern where Gimli was thankful to sit down. "Do not worry, Gimli. You will enjoy it much more once you have found your sea-legs, I assure you."

"I do not think Dwarves have sea-legs," Gimli grumbled as the boat swayed back and forth.

Sailing down the Anduin, Legolas recalled the journey up this river with his companions so many years before when the battle for the Ring was still being fought. Now they travelled in a ship all his own, sailing away from Middle Earth forever. He watched the land pass, and stored it all in his memory: every tree, every rock, every mountain, every thatched cottage in the fields. He was glad to be leaving, of course. It is what his heart had wanted since he first felt the call of the sea at that very spot all those many years ago. Strange that the years did not feel long, and yet so much had happened during them. Middle Earth, he knew, was no longer his home. The future, the sea, was his last great adventure!

"Gimli, look!" Legolas called as he steered the sloop smoothly round a bend and the great, wide ocean could clearly be seen in front of them. Gimli raised his perspiring, slightly green face and stared into the abyss. "Why...there is nothing!" he said, hiccoughing and turning slightly more green.

"Not yet, but we still have a ways to sail."

"Which direction do we turn?" Gimli said, laying back down and feeling slightly better. "South? North?"

Legolas thought a moment. "Why, I do not know."

Rising sharply, Gimli echoed, "Do not know?! Have you no notion on how to get to Valinor?"

"Why no, Gimli. The only one who knows how to get there is Cirdan, the Shipwright. Just because I'm an elf, does not mean I know how to sail there."

"But we could sail for years and never find it! Of what were you expecting, Elf? To sail forth and merely stumble upon it?!"

"The wind will show us the way," Legolas said assuredly.

"The wind!" Gimli grumbled under his breath, hiccoughing again. "These Elves with their stargazing and their wind! There are many winds!" he shouted. "And all blow in different directions!"

For three weeks the companions journeyed onward, neither knowing whether the wind was sailing them in the right direction or into disaster. Even with Legolas's keen eyes atop of the ship's loftiest perch, no land could be seen. Only ocean.

Gimli declared Legolas mad and urged their return to Ithilien, but Legolas was confident that Valinor would be found, and that they would prove victorious once more as in all the other adventures that came before.

After the fourth week of sailing, with neither land nor hope in sight, a dawn came that brought forth no feeling of day, for no sun rose, and the dark heavens above them grumbled angrily. Proclaiming it to be an ill-fated omen, Gimli begged Legolas to turn back, but Legolas knew that such signs bode an impending storm that could not be outraced.

"There is naught for it, Gimli," Legolas said, quickly preparing the rigging as he had learned for such incoming weather. "You must seek shelter below."

"What? Down in that coffin where I shall, with all certainty, drown?!" Gimli shouted as the sky opened up above them, pelting them with rain. "You must think me mad, Elf!"

Gimli remained on deck, but appeared much worse the wear for his trouble. The massive waves rocked their little ship to and fro, and Gimli felt each wave with increased nausea in his stomach. More than once did he have to lean his head overboard so not to befoul the deck.

Wave after enormous wave battered down upon the tiny vessel as though mercilessly attempting to swallow it whole. It was with disbelieving eyes that Legolas saw Gimli washed away right in front of him. One moment the little Dwarf sat holding a rope fast, and the next moment, the sea came crashing down upon them, and Gimli was gone!

Legolas abandoned the wheel and ran to the railing. "Gimli! Gimli!" but no reply could be heard. Suddenly he saw a small hand reach up out of the frothy white water, and without a moment's hesitation, Legolas dove into the watery abyss, swimming with all his might toward his friend.

Choking and coughing, Gimli could not speak, but did not fight Legolas as he swept him onto his back, and with much strenuous determination, swam to the ship and climbed back up the slippery rope trailing in the water.

"Are you alright, Gimli? You have not drowned?" Legolas said as he heaved for breath and laid his friend down upon the deck.

"Nay," Gimli choked, but it pained him too much to speak for his lungs ached with cold and water.

Legolas did not press for further reply, but promptly tied the loose rope around Gimli's waist. "I should have done this in the beginning."

Gimli made no argument; instead, he instantly wrapped his hands around the rigging so as not to be swept off again and thought, regretfully, that Dwarves were never meant to die this way. Yearnings of deep, dry caves, stone monuments, and mourning friends filled his thoughts while the angry sea heaved the boat about at will.

Returning to the steering wheel, Legolas pushed his unruly, clinging hair away from his face, and struggled to keep the boat afloat while the storm guided them where it would. The wind howled and lashed the brave craft relentlessly through the night, but it was fashioned with stout lumber by knowing hands, and would not break. Strong arms, unyielding body, and every bit of Legolas's strength were needed to steer through those walls of churning water.

Slowly, the storm subsided. The wind eased, and the waves became calm once more. The sky gradually cleared, and the sun bathed them again in luxurious warmth. Legolas and Gimli alike, heaved a grateful sigh of relief.

They quickly learned that one hell, however, would be replaced with another. As the sun grew hotter, the wind died and left the ship stranded in a desert sea with no motion.

Gimli retreated to the shade upon deck, and Legolas brought him a flask of warm water from below. "Give me an enemy which I can slay with my axe, and I'll be happy. Or rocks, Elf. Give me Moria. Give me something real against which I may wield my hammer. A Dwarf cannot smite the sun, the air, cannot smite the sea. Three days ago we would have given our right arms for the wind to cease howling, and now we would give our left if it would but start up again!"

"Aye, it is hot," Legolas said as he sipped the water. It was warm and failed to refresh his dry throat despite it being wet. "I fear the storm has carried us off the normal wind path, but as I do not know where Valinor is for certain, I cannot make an appropriate assumption."

Gimli merely shook his wearied head. No longer could he make objections for there was no way of knowing the return route to Ithilien and Middle Earth. They would sail on and on until either their deaths or the Undying Lands had at last been reached.

Legolas observed his friend's suffering, and said, "Fear not. We have been through far worse. Let us see what the morrow brings."

Gimli nodded and, closing his eyes, attempted sleep. He would go on to dream of mountains; cool, dark passageways; and family long dead. He would dream of gold and gems and riches in newly discovered mines that he and Legolas would share equally. He slept soundly and peacefully as the sun set into the west.

Legolas stared at it and thought back to other sunsets that he had witnessed in his long lifetime. This was different from all the others merely because of the glorious way its golden rays sparkled off the sea so as to seem that the whole heavens were exploding with light.

How unfair of me, he thought reproachfully, to have dragged poor Gimli into this fray without disclosing my lack of knowledge of the route to Valinor. It was not just. And Mithryn! How long she has had to wait for me, and still she must wait longer, or perhaps forever if such a storm befalls us again, or if our wind does not return. How unkind I have been to her!

He gripped the wooden railing and stared out into the void of naught but water and sky and said, "I am close Mithryn. I am so close! How I am trying to return to you. I but need wind for my sails and I come to you!"

He lowered his head down to the rail in beaten surrender, but lo! At first small and rather insignificant, and steadily growing until a gentle sound overhead compelled him to gaze upward. The topmost flag, the flag of the King of Eryn Lasgalan, far from lying limp and dead, was now waving merrily with new vigor and energy. Legolas, likewise revitalized, sprinted about, lowering the sails and catching the wind.

"Gimli! Gimli! Awake! The wind! The wind has come! We have set sail again!"

Gimli awoke with a snort out of his very profitable dream, but was quite pleased to find the sun setting and the cool breath of air blowing on his face once more. "Now that is more like it! Ha! Ha! And you would have had us forsaken, disbeliever!"

Legolas laughed and, trustfully letting go of the wheel, allowed the wind to guide them towards the deep burning glow of the setting sun.

Night enveloped them like a silent blanket and Legolas was once again comforted by the sight of stars glistening and sparkling in the sky like gems in the Glittering Caves. Commenting on the brilliant night sky, himself, Gimli was reminded of his dream, and both laughed and joked heartily of such silly things until it was quite late, and Gimli was snoring loudly again in sleep.

No sleep was to be had for Legolas for too cheerful was he and too excited in spirits. He kept recalling the timeliness of the wind saving them from their stationary snare. Could it have been a gift from the Valar? His heart for a moment thought it could have been Mithryn, but the whisper was quickly hushed. He still did not know if he would find her living or dead in Valinor. Shooing such evil thoughts from his blithe humour, he smiled confidently, letting the current take them where it wanted.

Morning dawned, and with it a misty veil hovered upon the water. Soon, however, the sky was bright and clear and looked promising for fine sailing weather. He hoped that, perhaps with very good luck, Valinor could be reached in another day or two. Still the wind blew, and Legolas thrived anew while it washed over him, blowing through his hair, and cooly caressed his face.

Slowly, what appeared as a mist on the far horizon began to clear, and for a moment, he thought perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him. Was that land ahead? No, surely it could not be! It was not Middle Earth, was it? As they sailed ever closer, he could see a land green with lush forests and mountains. The legendary violet-grey cliffs ahead were unmistakable, and his heart beat with increasing rapidity hoping that what he saw would be true. They had done it! They had reached Valinor!

"Gimli! We did it! Come! Come and see!"

Gimli awoke with a start, but rushed to the bow, rubbing his eyes.

His breath caught in his throat, Legolas could not speak. The faint sounds of a familiar song of joyous welcome grew louder as more and more voices joined in. He surveyed the land as far as his keen Elven eyes could see, and he was startled when a spark caught his eye. Elves! Elves were gathering upon the cliffs watching their arrival! He gasped. There! There, in the very centre, was a lady of flaming red hair whom he would recognize anywhere. Mithryn! She had done it! She had survived and was waiting for him! Beside her he could just make out another figure with flaming hair who had a remarkable resemblance to himself, he thought. Culúril! Far from the small boy to whom he had said farewell so long ago, Culúril now stood tall and proud like a true Elf. A tear shimmered down his face as he experienced a happiness unlike any before.

"Gimli," Legolas whispered, "I am home."

**THE END**

* * *

A/N: Dear Reader, thank you so much for coming thus far. I would hope that by having read 46 chapters, you have enjoyed my story, and embraced my characters, and (I hope) you believe I have done Tolkien justice. If you could bestow me any kindness, it would be to let me know that you have enjoyed this story of mine. I always respond to every reviewer (who are signed in or include their email). So, please. Do me the honour of leaving a few words, and I will happily do the same.

Lizbit :)


End file.
